Please return the glass bowl
the one with the orange lid.
Surely it is empty now, alone
on the shelf or behind the rice jar.
It is not that I am in need,
I just found myself thinking
of its emptiness, a hollow of cold.
Loneliness I wish to fill with warmth of soup.
One spoon of comfort at a time
to refill yourself
on Tuesday night
after the day’s work is done.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
To lose you
would be a sea without waves
moan of Winter wind
outside as I lay cold in bed.
To lose you
would be the wilt of wildflowers
a bow of small heads around the globe.
My eyes squeezed shut
effort of not remembering.
To lose you
would be loss for those
yet to hear your hearty chuckle,
low and warm
its own kind of song.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Jump, leap, crawl and claw
there is a world outside
the hamster wheel.
You can step off, drop chains of thought
fall into peace.
Your forgotten power, remains inside,
no superhero costume
necessary.
Only willingness, rejection of old pattern,
refusal of squeaky wheel,
one step, to the side.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Rounded Barcelona 2017
Blurred branches of feeling
the intersection of “Not good enough,”
and “You fell for that again?”
awkward limbs that cross
and cross again in confusion. While inches
of growth reach, stretch toward light.
The turbulent angles discretely covered
by feathered orange deliciousness.
A fancy distraction,
just like my sunglasses and hat
a layer of colors,
the perfect cover up to keep
my crack of failure private.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Light does not fall on us equally.
There are hours of gentle illumination, while some remain in shadow.
Random flashes which leave you for no reason at the front of the line.
Or the end, randomly burned, scorched,
with head shaking disbelief. Tranquil dusk light on leaves.
Other days blinded into paralysis, unable to see a way forward.
I remain in a thundercloud waiting room, counting shadows like minutes.
Weatherizing my soul before the next hurricane.
Steadfast, determined in my stance, for a return of the glow
In stillness it will find me.
Sun’s warm hand on my back again.
This too shall pass.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Like the filthy inside out sock
squished at the bottom of the hamper
under stench of damp rags.
Life can feel like that place.
Maybe it is time to do some laundry.
There is no rule, no prize for
handling it alone,
an unnecessary isolation.
The borrowed red sweatshirt
arms wide on the top of the mound
is not an accidental reminder of love.
Call. Just call.
Call before you change your mind.
That someone has seen dirt before
and will listen.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
If you are struggling today check out this blog, The Mighty, You are not alone.
Awakened to the heaviness. A push
to breathe through a cage too small.
Despair sits on her chest, hands over her mouth.
Alone on this journey, he is no companion
just a magnetic pull toward the mattress
that she wishes never to leave.
He knows what others do not.
That she can’t put it down.
An unseeable stone she carries alone.
How much easier to be pulled under
than to keep afloat.
A desire for lightness like dust
in a ray of light.
If she only knew
invisible hands surround.
Waiting. Just waiting.
For her to say the word.
Help.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
National Suicide Prevention Week September 10 – 16, 2017
http://stopasuicide.org/index.php
Reach out. Listen. You could save a life.
I remain
steadfast
on the shoreline
tethered, weathered
yet still afloat.
My life preserver
ready to be thrown
your way.
Waiting
for your signal.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
National Suicide Prevention Week September 10 – 16, 2017
http://stopasuicide.org/index.php
Reach out. You could save a life.
Photo Challenge – Waiting Photo taken in Varenna Italy, 2016.
Just enough oxygen.
Not a breath more,
than what is needed
for life to continue.
Her body floats in liquid blue.
Hair feathered out
on the surface like tentacles
reaching for a firm grip,
a holdfast,
to keep from
going
under.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 