Sunday, October 7, 2018

Illogic Reigns

Illogic Reigns

In the din
of a crowded room
illogic reigns
pushing me
to the middle
of the arena
An isolated gladiator

I slip
between the web
to the outskirts
Now outside
looking in
not belonging,
not fitting in.

I’m overwhelmed
with the need
to escape
and disappear
No one notices
No one cares.

I’m trying to describe what happens to me sometimes when I’m in a crowd. It is illogical. I know I belong. I know I can fit in. I just have to talk to people. But sometimes – I don’t even know what to call it, just that it is overwhelming – I just have to get out of there, to escape.

--Sasha Wolfe

Friday, September 14, 2018

Sometimes Life is Like This

I’m alone – from choice
but sometimes
sadness and grief
overwhelm me

Sometimes it seems
for every one thing
that goes right
too many more go wrong

Sometimes I get so tired
of fighting to stay upbeat
Sometimes the effort
is more than I can bear

Well-meaning words
echo through the canyons
of my mind
suck out my willpower

Harsh words said,
“… because we love you,
worry about you”
are not supportive

Maybe harsh criticism
works for some
ignites their fire
forces them to change

But harsh words to me
do not feel of love
but of finding fault
being talked down to

That if I’m not like them
I’m not perfect
or good enough
or deserving enough

Some days
I don’t feel strong
I don’t want to fight
my energy flatlines

My fire diminishes
I want to crawl
into a hole
and never come out

Sometimes I’m just
too fragile.
I am deflated.

It’s Hard Work to Stay Positive

At the time
I couldn’t understand
why my mother
gave up

I couldn’t understand
why, with so much
life has to offer
she stopped caring

I swore
I would never
be like her!

She’d say,
“Just wait,”
and her entire demeanor

“Just wait
until you’re this age
then you’ll

I swore
I would never
be like her

The years and the tears
wear me down,
“Yeah, Mum,
I understand now.”

Sometimes I feel
I am becoming
just like her.

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Running out of Time

I was thinking how lately I can't seem to find the time to write or paint. I continue to take daily photos, but I can't find the time to post/share them.

But the choices are mine to make during the day. I'm the one choosing to garden or writing emails over painting or working on my book-writing. I'm the one making busy work that doesn't fill my soul.

It's funny, but the older I get the longer it takes to get things done. Where I used to check off many items on my to-do list, now I'm happy if I can get to three. Sadly, those three or four seldom have anything to do with my books or painting. 

Such is life.

Running out of Time

My ship’s body
lies broken
on the ocean floor

Debris, the bits of me
still holding to life
floats upriver on the tide
into a silent swamp
sticks to reeds
and debris from others
also just barely hanging on

Slow decay
stagnant water
leaches the life-source
from my soul
there’s no energy left

My once-vibrant ship
now has only few bubbles
rising from its broken hull
sea life already takes hold

What went wrong?
Why couldn’t I fulfill my dreams?

The papers of my stories
photographs of the many things
that caught my eye
the paintings and drawings
that made me feel alive
dissolve in salt water

I drown in my own tears.

--Sasha Wolfe

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Where Does the Joy Go

Where does the joy go
when life lays me out flat
when every little thing is an obstacle
when things just seem to go wrong?

Where does the joy go
when getting up gets harder
when life gets lonelier
when I reach out and get slapped down?

Where does the joy go
when the choices I make turn into mistakes
when decisions are mine alone to make
and I can’t think straight?

Where does the joy go
when there’s no one to share
no one to lean on
and everything comes back to haunt me?

I sink into the pits of despair
allow myself to feel the pain
but then something fans the flame
and the fires of creativity roar again

I am not so all alone,
Joy returns!

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Fire Bomb

My soul opens and the fires pour in
a huge downdraft rushes 
through my inner core
igniting the embers of my creativity

I roar in combustion
my mind explodes in a burst of flames
which quickly scorches fingertips
and forces me to hurry

This fire bomb of words and feelings
too strong, too powerful 
comes from every direction
pounds me to the ground

I’m suffocating in a fury of words
I can’t write fast enough!
I can’t breathe!

Because, of course, I’ll die
if I can’t get the words down
if I forget anything
if I misinterpret the message

But I don’t die and 
suddenly it’s over
the fires go out
leaving me drained and exhausted

I can breathe again 
and in a few seconds of rest
I relish the emptiness
As my scorched soul quickly heals

I inhale … exhale …
my mind kicks in again
I pick myself up, 
sort through the debris

The editing begins
words forming an article or a poem 
What amazing accomplishment!

Once more, I am filled with a marvelous joy!

Embers in My Soul

My gut churns 
with longing
Embers deep in my soul
barely glow
Breezes of thought
stir the coals
But not enough to fan 
the fires of creativity

A word, a thought, a sight
a spark glimmers
Emotions jumble
clamber to be free
My soul falls on paper
in words, in color
Sometimes painstakingly slow
other times a rushing flood

A poem or painting
an intense brilliance of joy
Cries to be seen, shared 
its light … my light …
casting a balance 
with the shadows of life
Not just for me
but for all

Initial burst over
my mind quiets
Flames recede
to smoldering embers
while my soul
rests in joy and emptiness
until the next flare up
the next creative flash