My hope: a jolt of caffeine
will expand all this constraint

in temples, neck, clenched hand,
tight jaw, and all the inner spaces

filtered in gloom like creeping
through a musty tomb.

I’ve learned–when my cells cry
for water, lacking sustenance

of the only daughter–to listen
to the signals, subtle

that all this clanging tends
to muffle. Even so, I stretch

out flat, sleep the only cure
I can endure. In my deep

healing now, these pains
are rare. My new eccentric

lifestyle yields to care
for body heart and mind

and how the we affects
the complex connectionality.

But yesterday, a child of three
ecstatic after weeks to be with me—

the towers we built, the muffins
baked, the songs we sang

to geese beside the frozen lake–
he couldn’t nap, his inner joy

and power as I treasured this
young boy tuning in

to his questing heart, his demands
to know simply how electricity

moves through the house,
ignites the soul of you and me.

This last concept a bit too much.
He argued that it couldn’t be

that he was sourced by energy.
The climax reached, his powers ignited

and how to integrate all this excitement?
He leaned against my chest to hear

The Way We Work, so tired,
pointing at each illustration even so

determined to acquire
new balance as he ventures out

and then, climbs back into the
comfort of my lap again.

Inspired by: Rare, Sleep, Eccentric and Climax.


Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

2 thoughts on “Aftermath”

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