Escapril: Day 30. Prompt: Dusk

I'm aware that it's May; I've just got behind.  After this, I need to decide whether to go back and do days 1-14 of Escapril (either daily or in my own sweet time), or leave it and join in with Mayhem instead.  It depends on my motivation over the next couple of days, because Escapril would give me more breathing space, but I'd never catch up.  Mayhem would require more commitment, but I'll be 'on the same page' as others doing the project.  Decisions!

Dusk

Sunlight squints across the horizon,
Leaving trails of pink and orange as it fades.
The sky exchanges her daytime robes of azure
For her alluring indigo night attire.
As crickets chirp and mosquitos buzz,
A whole new world emerges.
Night creatures begin to appear
As humans tire and begin to relax.
The children's excited shouts are silenced
While sleep carries them to morning.
What's done is done; what's said is said.
Today has been lived, and tomorrow is a new day.

Escapril Day 29. Prompt: Monochrome

Shades of grey

When I was young,

I believed 

That everything was right or wrong;

Good and bad; Yes or no;

Black or white.

It was easy to think that way.

How clever I thought I was

To be so enlightened and decisive,

To have an opinion on everything,

And to think that I was right.

When I grew older, 

I realised

That sometimes there's no right or wrong.

That some situations have no good outcome

Or happy ending.

That the answer can be both yes and no,

That manifold factors must be considered, and

That some questions have no answers.

I don't feel quite so clever any more

But have perhaps grown wiser 

Since I realised that life

Operates in shades of grey.

Escapril Day 28. Prompt: ________ as a weapon

Words as a weapon

The biggest fallacy of childhood:
"Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt me."
How did it start?
Perhaps in a vain attempt
To build resilience.
Yet all of us have been wounded
By a careless remark,
Some needless invective,
An incisive insult
Or a cruel comparison.

The pen can be poisonous - 
Spewing out lies, filth and libel.
Words carved out by a nib in minutes
Are capable of damage for decades.
Hastily scrawled letters
Can break hearts, shatter families,
Uproot lives,
And cannot be taken back.
Our words outlive us
So we'd better choose them wisely.

With the gift of language
And the power of the pen
Come the responsibility to use them well.
Expressions of encouragement
Or utterances of understanding
Might be highlights of someone's day.
A friendly phrase
Or affectionate affirmation
Can build harmony, relationships and love.

Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words are the most powerful weapons of all.

Escapril Day 27. Prompt: Fight or Flight

Warning: this poem contains themes of severe mental illness.  It might not be the best thing to read if you're feeling vulnerable.

The enemy within

Out of nowhere,
He reappears:
That monster within.
Asleep, dormant for so long
That he's drowsy at first.
As he stirs from his slumber,
He sends small shockwaves
And feelings of malaise.
I brush them off,
Shake my head clear,
Disregard them and say,
"If I ignore this,
It might go away."
As days turn into weeks,
He begins to take hold,
And tries to control
My work, my time, my thoughts,
My life.
I busy myself,
Absorbed in music:
My life's work!
A life lived full of colour,
Replete with activity,
Can drown him out;
Silence his voice
And disguise waves of pain.
Until one day,
On completing a task,
His full horror wells up within.
Blood becomes black ink,
Warmth turns to ice,
And he shakes up my entire being
So the cold, black sensation 
Seeps through my veins,
Finding its way to every extremity.
Friends tell me I can fight
With perseverance,
And with the power of my mind.
I freeze, still shocked 
By his resurgence
And unsure 
If I possess the strength.
As his grip tightens,
Horrors of each day
Bleed into the night,
Infusing my dreams
With darkness and fear.
I'm not strong enough
And can't fight this monster,
So must run and hide instead.
But where can I run to?
How can I flee from his presence
When the havoc he wreaks is within?
So the real choice is:
Do nothing, or fight?
Doing nothing means risking my job,
My family, my home;
Losing my choices;
Giving in to his power,
Possibly forever.
It might be small,
But there's a chink of light inside me.
Something tenacious, 
Bestowed on me last time;
So clear and strong
That I cling to it like a life raft.
I cannot give up,
Or let the enemy win.
He's won enough battles;
He's NOT claiming me too.
I hold to the light,
And summon my energy.
I MUST fight him, as always before.
Slowly, s l o w l y ,
more strength returns,
And small victories grow confidence.
There's too much to lose,
Which is why
I will NEVER give up.
For as long as it takes,
Even all of my days,
I will stand up and FIGHT.

Escapril Day 26. Prompt: Serpentine

Kynance Cove

Place of exquisite beauty;
We walk, then run, then climb
Ever downwards
Then pause to look at breathtaking views.
We've been here more than fifty times
But every trek is still worthwhile.
Steps grow ever steeper
Until we land on fine, white sand
And scramble over boulders,
Splendorous cliffs yawing overhead.
Kids run on in front,
Keen to splash into the sea,
While their dad tries to locate
The best possible bit of beach.
I sit for a while on a boulder - 
Strong, immovable and firm.
My fingers skim damp stones;
Smooth, jagged, large and small.
They rest on one, warmed by the sun.
I pick it up.
Hard and still warm, it glows
Red and green, with grey beneath
And shines in the summer sun.
Polished by millennia of crashing waves,
It resembles the gleaming snakeskin
From which it takes its name.
Serpentine.
And then I wonder:
How long has it been here?
Has this tiny stone been handled before,
Or was it put here simply for my pleasure?
I feel simultaneously 
Present in the moment
And part of something far larger
As this little piece of history
Connects me to generations gone before.
Thankful for this moment
And infinitesimal beauty,
I put it in my pocket and
I am ready to carry on my day.

Escapril Day 25. Prompt: Extinction

Extinction

Wake up from your sleep.
Extinction is for ever.
Please protect us NOW.

Escapril Day 24. Prompt: Black Hole

Black Hole

There's a place where it's best not to go.
A human-eating black hole.
You can sit by the side and look,
Repulsed by the horrors within
And vow to always stay away.
For its forces are strong;
Its sides slippery and steep.
Once in, in's impossible to come out
The same way you went in.
You can only hope that with time
You will pop out the other side
Goodness knows where.
If you're lucky, it won't take too long,
But be warned: it might make you stay.
Oh, and nobody,
NOBODY comes out unchanged.

She circles its edge,
Her own personal hell,
Unsure what brought her here this time
And ambivalent... torn.
A life lived on the brink
Means she's learnt to co-exist with its pull.
Though she walks on solid ground
With head held high
And living her life, engaged with the world,
The Black Hole's force never leaves her.
As it grows stronger, she returns to the edge
To peer resignedly down inside.

The grey-black iciness emanating from within
Chill her to the bone, and never fail to scare.
But walking on a knife-edge is hard too.
Sometimes it's easier to just let go and fall.
Both worlds are pulling her
As often before.
She teeters, and wobbles...
Once... twice...
Momentarily unable to right herself.
With a last supreme effort,
She steadies herself, falls...
And she lands on firm soil.
Breathless, she scrambles away, for today.
It won't be her last encounter,
But this place does not own her.

Escapril Day 23. Prompt: Focus on the texture

Achnahaird

Squinting against the early morning sun,
Running barefoot down the hill.,
This is what dreams are made of!
Rough paved path gradually gives way
To sandy ground punctuated
By thick tufts of grass.
Excitement builds.
Uncomfortable heat of neoprene suit
Is more than worth the future joy.
Jump, scramble, bound...
Pure sand awaits.
So soft and fine,
Yet searing with heat
Despite the day's youth.
Particles gather between toes
Until dampness begins to seep
Up through the sand,
Compacting it 
Into something much easier to walk on.
Ah!  The coolness of the sea
Soothes baking feet
While they leave behind their imprints;
Temporal memories.
Rhythmic waves create their own inimitable music.
Sunlight glistens so keenly on the crystal clear water
That it almost hurts to look.
Eyes closed,
Feet keep moving, ever forwards
Though slower now.
Blissful cool, clean water
Bathes sweltering legs;
Slowly inches over torso.
With wild abandon,
Whole self is flung into
This beautiful, cold, crisp
Exhilarating and essential ocean.

Escapril Day 22. Prompt: Into the Woods

Strength

Trudging along,
Stumbling occasionally;
Wearing troubles like a lead apron.
Weighed down by woes
And weary of this world,
Moving morosely
Without real direction;
Just keep moving
And find somewhere quiet.
Somewhere to think.

At the edge of the woods,
Circling at first,
Then scrambling among gnarled roots
And twisted trunks which form the gateway
To another world.
Down, down, down, gathering pace.
So cool and calm; finally quiet
But buzzing intangibly with life.
Run past a river,
Leaves brushing against face.

Densely packed trees
Interlock limbs.
Branches sway gently in the breeze.
Trunks of many textures
With leaves of varying shades.
Majestic oak, elegant beech and
Towering pines
Teem with life.
All provide shelter and shade
To whoever needs it.

Here, a clearing!
More light enters in a dappled pattern
Through the sparser canopy.
The light beckons
And gentle branches brush shoulders
Like a parent gathering their child into a hug.
Insects, birds and animals
Make their homes here.
Life is slower; calmer,
But thriving.

The trees are so wise -
They do not worry or strive.
Appearances don't matter
And possessions are irrelevant.
There is a right time for everything;
No need to rush.
The woods are witness to so much
And hold the knowledge of many years.
They live through storms and scarcity;
Every weather,
And every world disaster,
As generations come and go.
Still they thrive and grow,
Providing life-giving oxygen.

We have survived many trials.
Rest here awhile, and you will survive yours.

Escapril Day 21. Prompt: Hands, Wrists, Teeth

Realisation

(Or the Seven Ages of Woman)

7 years:
Night waking, legs aching.
Bendy thumbs impress my chums.
"Growing pains".

11 years:
Start to feel sharp pain in heel.
Teachers now see I'm failing P.E.
"Achilles Tendonitis".

12 years:
Dislocating jaw, always sore.
"What do you expect? You're having your teeth rearranged.
And besides, you have a Low Articular Eminence."

14 years:
Nothing can calm searing pain in arm.
"Repetitive Strain Injury."

24 years:
Everything seems to crack; increasing pain in back.
"Well, you're not a teenager any more!"

26 years:
Tripped over own feet, banged elbow in street.
Small joints dislocating, everything else aching.
"Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.  Yes, it explains a lot."

30 years:
Music teacher, student, mother and wife.
An achy EDSer leading a full and busy life.
"A serious case of Determination
Accompanied by a liberal does of Bloody-Mindedness!"

Escapril Day 20. Prompt: Moon

Luna

She's like the moon,
Calm, cool and light.

Hidden by day,

Working magic at night.
Changing appearance,

She waxes and wanes.

When all's dark and silent,

There she remains.
Casting her light 

Over all who pass by;
Imbuing with healing
Away she'll then fly.
Whether she's dressed in
Pink, silver or blue,
Half of her face
Stays hidden from view.
When the sun rises
To shine on the streets,
Mysterious and modest
Luna retreats.
She's rarely visible
While the sun's out,
But her elegant beauty
Is never in doubt.

Escapril Day 19. Prompt: Tough to be a bug

Tough to be a bug

Nestled, cool and dark.
Prying fingers pull back stone;
Shrink back from the light.

Escapril Day 18. Prompt: How did the sky look?

Beneath the sky

for GNJ

Nervous glances, holding hands,
Their first meeting as something more than friends.
Once so chatty over the phone,
As life histories came tumbling out;
Now tongue-tied, inhibited, waiting... for what?
Still in her teens, red-haired, petite,
She trotted along to keep in step
With his long, lithe strides.
Though awkward and out of sync,
They gave each other boldness
And she felt secure in his reassuring presence.
The sky, so blue on that sultry August evening, was
Kissed with white clouds and 
Buzzing with anticipation.

Among the flashing lights and blaring music
Of her local funfair,
Nervousness evaporated.
They joined the throngs of people
All ready for a good time.
Laughter flowed as they deliberately crashed their bumper cars.
She rode the helter skelter
While he captured the evening in photographs.
Together they giggled about the farcical ghost house
And played for prizes without success.
As night fell,
The summer sky turned indigo overhead
Rushing through violet and red
To a burnt orange sun blazing across the horizon.

They took the long route home;
A high road following the coastline.
And away from the still-bustling seaside town, 
Words cascaded easily
In the youthful thrill of being together.
They sat on a bench overlooking the sparkling sea.
The haze of summer and anticipation of the unknown
Hung in the air.
In the darkness, conversation stopped
And they leaned in for their first kiss.
The sky was black and full;
A witness to their fledgling romance.
Early stars twinkled like a firework display of celebration
Of a heady, electrifying evening
And the start of something enduring.

Escapril Day 17. Prompt: Grief

Grief

Circling the dawn of middle age,
Many have been loved and lost.
Each life made an impact;
Brought colour, joy and memories.
The greatest loss was the first:
Was I just young and impressionable?
Partly... but after quarter of a century
Some unexpected quiet moments,
Some challenges at work
And the mention of Christingles
Provide dazzling emotional recall.
I am transported back to that moment
And every now and then
Allow myself to feel that shock and pain.
They say that there are stages of grief
And that might be true,
But what they don't tell you is that
They are not linear.
They stop and start, change and turn
In labyrinthine patterns.
They say that time heals;
We certainly move on.
But in reality time just puts more distance
Between the now, and the then.
We grow accustomed to the loss;
Accept it, even ignore it
Until we are reminded
And emotion bursts forth.
You were my mentor, my friend, my hero.
I wanted to be like you.
I wanted to BE you.
I looked forward to a lifetime
Of sharing ideas,
Of being gently steered along the path I chose,
Of your positive input
And irreverent humour.
I only got three more months.
We were all cheated of that time
While you were shortchanged in your fourth decade.
Such overwhelming shock and rending pain
I will never again experience,
Although when I allow myself
To look back in my memory to that day
And peek through nervous fingers at the scene,
The heartbreaking despair remains.
I cried all night and silently screamed
At the universe to bring you back.
Casual acquaintances and essay deadlines
Did not understand.
I went through the motions with my mind only on you.
I was so lost, and having to navigate this life alone.
After all these years, I have to hope
That I am getting it right,
That you would approve
And that you would be proud of your enormous legacy.
They say that it is better to have loved and lost
Than to never have loved at all.
My heart is so full;
Although our time was short,
I was so wonderfully blessed.
I will never forget.
Gone but not forgotten,
Until we meet again.

Escapril Day 16. Prompt: Bearing Fruit

Collaboration

“Work together,” he said.
“Share your ideas.
Make a plan, then
Report back to me.”
They huddled together, heads low,
By turns pensive, inspired, amused.
She sat ambivalent;
There, but not there.
Assisting, yet disengaged.
Saving ideas for herself.
She produced great work
Which he admired.
Her rewards were high grades
And ample praise
But not for teamwork.

“I’ll need some help,” the mother explained.
“Someone to assist on Saturday night.
It won’t take long;
A friend to be here for about an hour.”
He had the time
But not the proclivity.
He waited in silence
Until someone else offered;
A lucky escape!
Saturday came; he was passing in his car when
Strange intuition struck.
“Maybe I should check on her,” he thought.
On second thoughts, “Oh, she’s probably fine.”
All was not well; she’d been let down
And had to rely on her ex -
He who could not be relied on,
While her friend gained time alone
To add to his uneasy heart.

For many reasons, some hang back:
Through reticence; through lack of time;
Under erroneous notions of dispensability.
Through selfishness and pride;
Under guises of independence.
Some things are better shared:
A smile, a hug,
A loving gesture, a generous word.
Friendship, good news
Worries and joys.
Hold them fast with closed fists and closed heart;
Like the body, they wither and die.
Open your hands, open your heart;
Let goodness flow to others’ lives.
Connect to the vine
And bear good fruit.

Escapril, Day 15. Prompt: Euphoria

Authenticity

Alone among the elements
I am me.
So small amid the brushstrokes of earth;
An insignificant speck bobbing rhythmically in the sea.
Exhausted yet jubilant on mountaintop;
As free as the breeze which caresses my cheek,
Tangles my hair
And goes where it pleases.
Out of doors, out of routine, outside my head,
I can do what I was made to do:
Just be.

Buzzing with novel ideas,
I truly live.
“Pick me!  Pick me!  Ask a busy person...”
Stepping into the breach to fulfil a need;
Speaking first; thinking later.
Planning projects with infectious enthusiasm;
Dragging bemused bystanders into the all consuming operation.
Drafting details, mind racing at full speed
And oblivious to all else.
Fundraising schemes an excuse for raising fun
As I thrive on unexpected challenges.

Intense purity of emotion
Leaves me awestruck in its wake.
Being at complete rest in nature
Or completely spent on productive projects,
Both bring such indescribable joy
That when I pause for breath,
I am caught up in a rush of love, of peace, of pure elation.
I am me, I’m alive and truly living.
This is how life should be.
Then in the aftermath
Waves of overwhelming feeling still wash over me.
So startling, I feel they can’t be real.
Is it actually still joy, or the more familiar tug of despair?

It is astonishing to encounter
This beauty all too fleeting.
Can I recreate that moment?
When I feel it, I will know.
I will grasp, and not let go.
Let me believe.