Letting the past interfere with the present is never a good thing...
Seven years ago my life changed, when after 18 years with the same company in a position that I loved, the economy took a downturn and I was one of 250 that were laid-off. It hurt, physically hurt. I felt like my “family” had abandoned me. It brought me to one of the lowest points in my life.
Even though this was the catalyst that spawned my poetic journey, and I would eventually find another job in a position where I feel useful and appreciated, it seems the resentment from that day adhered and took on a life of its own.
During the past few days I have been reflecting on the events of the past year— how I almost lost the one person in my life that means the world to me. I have come to realize that life is too short to be carrying such anger. It does no one any good, especially me. I have decided enough is enough. And so I surrender all of those “what-ifs” and “might-have-beens” back to the past where they belong, and re-embrace this life I have with all its possibilities!
Statute of Limitations
by Ginny Brannan
How long can such corrosion last
that wears and tears down to the soul
to eat away the waking hours…
by now it seems it should have passed
its half-lives clinging, lingering on.
Cruel entity that gained control
to augment into monstrous thing—
where anger nourishes the hate
it manifests, exacting toll;
malignancy that won’t abscond.
I heard the words and felt the sting,
your verbal dagger bruised the bone;
no salve was offered to appease—
accelerating to the brink
where loathing and resentment spawned.
And thus the seeds of scorn were sown
to root and grow for seven years
till animus has run its course…
Now comes a calling to atone
will peace be found in my response?
Too long the anger has adhered
to scourge and scar, insult, cajole;
to mar the surface to the bone.
The acid cuts through my veneer;
yet in its tenure, I have grown.
The time has come to cede control:
once more I morph, becoming whole.
|"The Wave", a 190 million year old Jurassic-age Navajo sandstone rock formation, |
Coyote Buttes North, Paria Canyon-Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness Area, Utah-Arizona border, USA
Ginny Brannan: Residing in New England with husband of nearly 34 years, son and two cats, Ginny Brannan took poetry and creative writing courses in both high school and college. Foregoing degree, she headed directly into the workforce. In 2009, Ginny found herself out of work and facing the ominous task of finding employment in a cyber world and declining job market. Struggling to keep afloat, a long-time friend suggested she tap back into her creative side and pick up a pen and write (or Macbook and type as case may be). She credits the therapeutic effects of writing to getting her through this stressful time. Ginny writes both traditional poetry and free verse. She has been published in The River Muse, an on-line Art & Literary Journal. You may read more of her poetry on her website here, listen to her recite her poems here or connect with her Ginny on twitter.
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~