Separation Anxiety

(Dedicated to an unknown friend)

Sometimes two halves are worth more than their single whole.

Separation, division; the act is sometimes a form of growth in nature:
Single-cell organisms multiply by becoming two.

De-unification can be a freedom of spirit as well as a civil action;
conjoined twins, years together may become separate identities while retaining their shared memories.

The same is true for families, partners, long-married couples.

Growth continues to happen within the universe even while it keeps on expanding.

One needn’t fight the growth inherent within separation,
even while remembering the wonder and warmth of union.

Splitting up does not denote failure, it is the proof of growth.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©26 April 2018

Duck, Cover, and Whinge

(just asking for a friend)

Does anyone wonder if he’s ever cried, real tears from real emotion?

Is it possible that he’s ever felt personal grief at the loss of a person instead of a thing;
the sensation of true sorrow, sadness, or mourning or regret?

Does anyone believe that he has ever felt shame, remorse, or guilt?

Who honestly would trust his apologies, assuming he would ever admit error?

Is it possible that there is any humanity in him, any shred of empathy, or dignity?

Has he only wept crocodile tears unless they were tears of frustration or anger?

Was there ever a thoughtful, compassionate person in that shell of a man,
or has his first and only thoughts been about him?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©13 April 2018

Mid-Century Lass

I'm the type that they classify as quaint
(With thanks to Johnny Mercer)

I’m old fashioned but open minded
Forward thinking but conventional
Traditional with cutting edges
Reasonable but stubborn.  
I’m a listener and a thinker
An observer and a doer;
I speak my mind by remaining silent. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©1 April 2018

Blocked

I have stories that will never be a book.

I have rhymes that will not become a poem.

I have lyrics that will not be sung aloud.

I have melodies that will never be transcribed.

I have a voice that won’t be understood.

I have visions that will not become art.

I have emotions that can’t be put in words.

I have a silence that echoes in my mind.

I have passions that will never be fulfilled.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 March 2018

Some Small Irritations bring forth Pearls … (or so they say)

I’ve gone through life so far with my hat in my hand,
my heart both in my mouth and worn on my sleeve;
my head in the clouds, and foul weather ahead.

I’ve had the wind in my hair, the clouds full of rain,
“ the sun in the morning and the moon at night.”

I’ve had my back to the wall and stars in my eyes.

Friends, I’ve had a few, but in most cases warm acquaintances;
people come and go, and go, and go some with kindly waves
and some like thieves in the night.

I’ve seen rainbows, but the pots of gold were full of fools.

I’ve seen danger ahead and over my shoulder too many regrets;
I’m pretty sure that nothing’s changed except the world around me.

I’ll continue on the same worn path since I don’t know any other.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 22 March 2018

Talking to Myself

"I've been huntin' for a kindly ear but couldn't find one near and wound up talking to myself."

(Thanks to George Watsky)

Are we the emptiness within or the human shell-surround?
Is living just the means of filling that bottomless hole?
Sometimes my voice echoes in the ambient roar inside my head; the reverberating buzz of a million answerless questions.
Sometimes I can’t recognise my reflection; seeing the shadowy outline instead of the person looking back.
Am I real, am I invisible?
Worse, am I and my value unacknowledged even to myself?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 14 March 2018

State of Despair

"Don't you understand what I'm trying to say"

(with thanks to Barry McGuire)

I ache for the world.

I feel each wrong, fear and loss;

My heart is breaking.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 8 March 2018