Cold, wet earth.
Grey clouds and droplets of rain.
Daffodils already through, garden readying anew. Transformation begins. Vibrational reflections felt, heard and required.
Even in winter, I come here when tired.
Damp dirt to awaken my spirit.
Life’s cycle, clearance nearing completion.
Spring will bring new hope.
Karen Hayward ©2016.
Ironing. For years I refused to be a slave to the mould of hot steaming iron. I refused to smooth away the crinkles, press creases and stand in the ultimate housewife position. Legs spread, board out, piles upon piles of stylistic statements before me, all of them requiring attention, all of them requiring me to become the atypical label. A housewife, a wife a mother, a female, a girl a lady. We iron.
We stand for hours, up the board, down the board, bored, bored, bored. You were in or you out. I was out. I was the black death of womanhood my views contagious, my opinion death like. So I ironed less and welcomed my self induced plague.
I iron. I became the label that society imposed on me. Sickened by my acceptance I remove my bra in protest.
Karen Hayward ©2015.
Zadkiel I call upon thee now to give clarity to a final deed, did I turn my back on a soul in need? Is forgiveness the acceptance of even the broken, no matter how harsh their words spoken? Must I forgive time and time again whilst they sprinkle down hatred that fills me with pain?
Zadkiel, can I forgive, forget and move on? Can I forget the shock in their voice as I questioned their choice? Was I wrong, should I have remained strong? Am I not her protector, is it not my duty to shield her? Was it selfish, did I put her ahead of their needs when they are so desperately in search of the broken seed? Zadkiel, I am lost and in fear, I searched for you but could not see you near. The words flowed with surprising ease as I watched her fall to her knee’s. Her beliefs torn apart, her thoughts questioned she stumbled upon lies a clouded darkness fell upon her eye’s. Chance and chance again, Zadkiel, I gave in and before my eye’s grey scale fell and I saw as I never seen before,
and now her role within, is no more. Zadkiel, I ask for clarity and forgiveness reserved for the strong, is my heart right? Did I do no wrong?
Karen Hayward © 2015.
You spoil my silence with your incessant voice,
a cat being strangled whilst you jump for joy.
Banging and jumping and so called singing too,
I wish I could record this, so you can listen to you.
Your voice is like poison
Addled with drink,
It penetrates through to the place where I think.
Your whoops and you screams
Seep curiously into my pleasant dreams.
Please let’s make an alliance,
you’re poisoning my precious fucking silence!
I dream of a deep turquoise lake. Sunlight skipping from edge to edge
leaving a trail of sparkling gold dust. I dream of soft lush grass of
deep green, each blade tickling my bare feet. Daisies growing wild
as far as the eye can see in beautiful curving waves besides dandelion
clocks that sway in the warm summer breeze. The serene melody of
the song thrush calling to her mate as the blue tit sings a chorus of love
beneath a cloudless sky of powder blue as dragon flies dance in
soundless rhythm chasing one other without care. As lady bugs pause
upon my hands and I count the black dots that contrast so beautifully
against their scarlet red skin before they flutter away. Here is where
I wish to lay, to pass away my day, eyes closed I can hear the earth
feel its mirth, hear the soft lapping water and feel the warm burning sun.
It is here that I can finally feel at one.