Skip to main content

THIS CYNICAL HEART by Ginny Brannan

 My family recently lost a young cousin…

At only six years old, he had struggled all his short life with an undiagnosed disease, and when the doctors finally put a name to it they also determined that his time here with family was limited.

I wrote this poem in the days after his passing. It is about coming to terms with my own doubts, and about envisioning a place where this small child (and really all of us) will be free from pain and illness, free to run in ways he never could do in this life.  

Most who have read this think that it is about finding one's "inner child," and while I can appreciate their perception, I really had something different in mind as I wrote it. To me, it is a prayer of sorts to "never lose hope." For the child that was lost, and the "child" in all of us.
Photography by Elena Shumilov 

This Cynical Heart
by Ginny Brannan

Imagine a place with no pain existing,
where ills that are carried through life disappear.
Like Thomas, this heart is quite bent on resisting,
yet lingering questions insist on persisting;
their answers illusive and ever unclear.

And still I am finding my mind keeps returning
whenever the stillness and quiet appears.
I ponder the purpose of life, disillusioned—
the darkness that settles, no certain conclusion;
for ages I’ve tarried, alone and austere.

I wonder how long I’ve withdrawn in seclusion,
closed off from emotion, these goals cast unclear?—
Where cynical thoughts thrive without absolution
despondent, in need of insightful intrusion…
does anyone notice behind this veneer?

In my heart I envision a child that’s running
and playing with others, no longer constrained—
surrounded by light of the love that he carries,
his purpose fulfilled, this small emissary
reminds us “Be happy, we’ll meet once again.”
Photography by Elena Shumilov 

Ginny BrannanResiding in New England with husband of nearly 32 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!~  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without