BraveWrite, Week 4

September 26th

He sits across from his therapist as she checks off #boxes in her mind. She scribbles notes down from his answers and he bites his lip from asking. He’s new to this. His leg bounces, up and down, anxious for answers. Anxious to be told it’s not in his head.

 

September 27th

The wind kisses the leaves with a playful breeze and dances with fading flowers. Insects buzz in swirls around his ears. Rough bark reaches for skin through thick sweaters but he welcomes its affirming touch. He #listens to nature, sat upon its packed dirt.

 

September 28th

She talked to herself through every task. Rambled and raved. No audience required for the #insane mutterings she came across. She told stories in whispers and shouts. She told stories of the sad and mad. It kept her amused. They called her crazy, but she knew where her marbles were.

 

September 29th

She held the leash loosely in her right hand as her dog marched forward, nose to the ground. Their feet and paws crunched on the #crisp leaves felled by Autumn’s breeze. Her eyes were vigilant for any threats to her dog and thankfully her dog listened when needed.

 

September 30th

The #epoch of her life had been the four years in university. She sat in the back, hiding her mind from classmates and professors. She toyed around on her laptop, unable to focus. Anxiety thrummed in her heartbeat, coaxing her into depressive and manic episodes.

 

October 1st

She stands out like a sore thumb covered in scars, tattoos, and piercings. Surrounded by girls in booty shorts and crop tops, she flashes her middle finger at the cookie cutters. She’s #contrarian and bucks the social norm. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

 

October 2nd

She was without an #anchor in the storm. The ropes that tied her to the docks had long since frayed, rubbed repeatedly between boat and wood. She nose dived under a large wave, its waters threatening to fill her. Alone in the harbour, she wondered how long she’d last.

 

A Barking Reminder

Sheer Will.
No, that’s a lie.
 
My dogs get me up
On the toughest of mornings.
Their incessant whining
Barking and prancing
Begging for food.
 
They don’t let up
Licking my exposed toes
Digging bony elbows into my back
Cold snouts pushed into my face.
 
They force me up
To feed them
Because I may not want to live
But I need to for my dogs.
 
It reminds me after a while
That those moments
Mean something
My life
Means something
To someone.
 
My husband,
My dogs,
My cats.
 
I may want to give up
See nothing to live for
But those barks are all it takes
to tell me
I’m needed, wanted, and loved.
 
That’s what gets me up
When there’s nothing to live for.
[To explain, I am a member on a website called Prose, and it posts challenges as do its members to prompt writing. I try to check it out everyday, and write for some of the challenges. This poem is for one of them.]