Lack of Notice

I’m not sure when I lost you.
There was no defining moment,
no grand departure, just absence
apparent after you were gone.
No goodbye, no get out of my life
but you got out, regardless
and I don’t know what’s more sad,
you being gone or neither of us
noticing until now.

~The H Word~

About last night …

My finger spins the wheel
on the rodent’s back.
Squeak, squeak, squeak,
it does not
and I’m glad
but no less concerned.
This incessant scrolling
is boiling my brain.
Just stop.
Aye, okay, in a minute.
Many minutes later
the rodent’s back.
I haven’t moved
but I’ve aged.
Mindless distraction
seems harmless,
it’s interaction
is it not?
No, it’s not.
Right, shut it down.

Relief, back creaks
as I straighten
to stand. Headrush –
a little sway
this way and that
and I’m moving,
determined
to head straight
to bed to get my
head straight.
It’s a viscous circle.
I can’t seem
to get off.

Darkness. Breath.
Pillow cradling head.
I can do this.
I know you can.
Right, I’m doing it.
Well, go on then.
Pep talk
small talk
all talk.
Meditation commencing
in 3, 2, 1 …
and for a while
I forget it all.
I empty and grow
feeling present at last
in the space in-between
then and when
but it doesn’t last,
it never lasts.

There’s a knock
and a cough,
a shuffling of feet.
I pretend not to hear,
pretend I’m asleep.
They know I’m not,
of course they do.
So I sigh, get up
to let them both in,
they tumble inside
they’ve been waiting
this whole time.

Depression settles
quickly, snuggled up to
my heart. Two seconds
and she’s asleep.
Why can’t I be like that?
Anxiety is stretching
doing lunges, of sorts,
he’s preparing
for the long haul.
He takes a pile of papers
from his bag
shuffles them pretentiously –
arsehole.
How many pages
are there?
A few, now
lets gets started.

And so it begins
the quick-fire questions
the bonus round
the 8-point answer
that I always get wrong.
He runs through
every moment
every detail
every night
just to remind me
he’s paying attention,
taking notes
of everything.

We eventually finish.
I hear the birds
announcing the sun’s
coming up,
and he chuckles
under his breath.
Is that the time?
We should get to bed.
No shit sherlock.
Fucking dick.

#NaPoWriMo2020 #Day22

Killing Time

What doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
A new superpower
government-gifted
to the sacrificed herd.
Or, better still
call them heroes, instead—
our essential front-line
left unprotected and blind
to get on with it all.
No-ones asking
for heroes
or super-fucking-powers.
Just a fighting chance,
enough ventilators
(and masks).
Society’s clutching
its last strand of sanity,
ripped out at the roots
in frustrated rage.
Reality? Should have
its license revoked,
along with the jokers
calling the shots.
I’ve seen horror movies
offer more hope.
Humanity reveals
its tainted underside
reckless protesters
assemble to give
ignorance a chance.
Vague regulations
social distance resistance
encourages the selfish
who couldn’t care less
about the widows they make
for freedom’s sake.
Pandemonium weakens
to washed-out dismay.
Astonishment fades
to shady complacency.
Take a bite of the news,
try and swallow the bile
acerbic indigestion
a bitter reward
for your time.
Truth’s an alien concept
to the trusted elected.
High-born sociopaths
(or game-show hosts)
play with thousands
of lives, the stakes
have never been higher.
It’s no witty affair
when empathy’s scarce.
So, take yourself for a walk
your once-a-day jaunt.
Mind, set a brisk pace
keep depression
at bay, for a while.
It’s killing time.
#NaPoWriMo2020 #Day19

What do you want to achieve today?

Firstly, apologies to anyone who thinks this is going to be an inspirational post about what wonderful, creative things you can do during lock-down.

Whilst I’m in awe of those who are learning new skills, adhering to a carefully thought out schedule and generally excelling at life, that simply isn’t me.

Today, my achievement is that I woke up at 9 am. You may be thinking, oh, did you want to have a long lie? Sorry, let me explain. Today I wanted to wake up at 9 am because for the past four days I haven’t been able to get out of bed before midday.

Let me put this into context. I’m a mother of two; one is 9 and the other is 18. I’m married. I have responsibilities. I am in my second year of a university degree course. However, I also struggle with my mental health.

I guess the point of this post is to show that everyone’s goals are going to be different right now. This is a weird and messed up situation. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. Set personal goals and celebrate achieving them. Know that what you are doing is good enough.

Tomorrow, I might add something else, I might not. If I can get up at 9 am for two days running, I’ll be happy with that.

Whatever you achieve today, no matter how small, I admire your strength. If you feel you haven’t achieved what you planned, there’s always tomorrow. I admire your courage to keep trying.

You’re one of a kind, each and every one of you. Please be kind to yourself.

Stay safe, everyone!

H x

War of Words

We live in a time where being online is a such huge part of life. For some, this will have increased tenfold over the past few weeks, as we try to keep up to date with what’s going on and stay in contact with those we cannot see face to face. I, for one, have never been more grateful for the internet.

The poem I’m sharing today, I wrote about one of the negative aspects of online interaction — keyboard warriors. Those who love nothing more than to spout hateful comments to get a reaction. Many of us have encountered them, whether it’s been directed towards us personally or towards someone we follow, it’s never a positive experience.

We each have our own way of dealing with them. For me, I try to take away the thing they crave the most — attention, but sometimes that can be hard to do.

War of Words

Wicked warriors
brandishing words
like daggers — sharpened
and barbed to pierce
the thickest of skins,
aimed to destroy from within.

Insults and slights
dolled up to the nines
yet, each dipped in poison
to hurt and divide.

It’s up to you to decide,
respond or ignore?
Give attention they crave,
or decide it isn’t your war.

You could attack them
with kindness. Choose
your words carefully.
Your weapon of choice?
Compassionate humanity.

Or wear honour like armour ―
polished and bright
enough to deflect
those weaponised
words of spite.

There are no winners
in war, only survivors.
Ask yourself, honestly,
is this a battle
worth fighting?

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