Friday, March 17, 2023

"Looking for Answers"

          Ever wish for the power to see into the future? Ever long for the ability to know ahead of time if the path you’ve set out on will take you where you really want to go?

In my twenties, I set out on a journey with David that meant we selected a trail and forged ahead no matter what barrier blocked our journey. During the first years, we struggled with meeting basic necessities. Like most people, our twenties meant scrounging for every penny just to make it through each month. I remember evaluating everything by gallons of milk or gas. Did we need to go to a movie? That would be “spending” three gallons of milk on entertainment. How much did I want that new top? It would cost me the same as a tank of gas to go see my family. By being budget conscious and frugal, we pulled together enough money to purchase our home, but it wasn’t easy. Our next goal, having a child, proved an unexpected challenge, too. While many of our friends and family members seemed to pop out babies with great ease, we found ourselves looking for the answers to infertility. The answer we found, adoption, led us onto the wonderful path of parenthood.
         In our thirties, David had the opportunity to start his own business and work from our home. We couldn’t turn down the chance of having one parent at home at all times. The freelance business brought its own trials. Clients loved to send contracts with short turnarounds on completing the work, but then they bogged down the payment process. Sometimes a project’s payment wouldn’t come in for more than two months. If we’d had a crystal ball that could have predicted the shortcomings and obstacles of self-employment, would David have attempted his business? Even with hindsight on the difficulties we faced, we probably would have made the same choices because the benefits of having a parent at home outweighed the uncertainties of sporadic income.
         Every decision we made as a couple, we made with the goal of keeping our family strong. Many times, life piled seemingly insurmountable obstacles on the trail before us. Often, we plowed forward blindly on the pure faith that if we put family first we couldn’t get off track. Sometimes onlookers from the sidelines catcalled and jeered, trying to steer us into another direction. They’d throw large bricks of doubt directly in front of us that made us lose our footing and momentum. Eventually, we learned to block out the noise of the faceless crowd and kept true to our trek.
         I thought, foolishly, that I’d eventually hit an age where everything would fall into place. Where the wisdom of my years and experience would mean I wouldn’t flounder on this winding trail of life. However, questions still plague my days and nights. Obstructions make me pause and second guess myself. I find that I’m still trying to divine the future as I take another loop along the path. My soul searching illuminates the road just far enough ahead for me to know that keeping family whole and strong will secure safe passage.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Thursday, March 16, 2023

“The Road NOT Taken”

Road NOT taken!


           Last weekend we did a quick turn-around trip to our cabin in Leakey, Texas. Because of transportation problems over the last few years, we’ve neglected both the cabin’s exterior and the massive cedar take-over of the acreage. Now that we have our Bronco Sport, heading down the rough road isn’t a problem. David’s selected areas on the property to create trails through the cedars; with going up the hill behind the cabin taking priority as the top of it is our only section where we get cellphone reception.

          The porch, which we built more than thirty years ago, attaches to the metal building and sprung a leak during our long absence. Last November, we noted the water damage, and David decided to bring some GREAT STUFF up on the next visit to seal the leak. In January, he sprayed both from the roof line above and within the porch below. This time, it was obvious that everything dried out. Now we have to figure out how to fix the damage, an extra problem since it’s only the two of us. We brainstormed on ways to remove the rotten parts, reinforce the zone with new wood, and also treat the remainder of the porch’s wood to preserve it. I’ll spend time researching the exterior paints with waterproofing before the next visit. The cabin’s exterior wood needs both repairs and paint. We’ll toil at these tasks for the remainder of this year.




            We’re never ones to shy away from hard work, but since my both of my knees have had slight injuries, I’m extra cautious when we’re at the cabin now since another twisted knee is a major setback I don’t want to deal with. For safety purposes, I wear ankle high, steel toed hiking boots instead of the tennis shoes I’ve worn for years. If  I step down the ramp, my heavy boots adorn my feet. I crawl at a careful pace going up the back hill. I test the inclines of slopes before heading back down. That means a zigzag path with David nearby to offer a hand of assistance.

            On Sunday, we started down one of the dry creek beds. It’s one of my favorite treks. With extreme vigilance, I picked my way along the rocks and gravel. David, eyes forward and moving at his normal pace, left me in the dust! About ten feet in, I called out, “I think this is too difficult for me right now. I’m going back to the road!” Frankly, I didn’t know whether I felt defeated or victorious. One the one hand, I didn’t venture down a road I’ve taken many, many times with ease. Although my knees felt fine, I didn’t want to risk re-injury. The younger, less arthritic Liz wouldn’t have turned back. Even a couple of years ago, I would’ve pushed myself a little harder. The practical, new Liz listened to my body’s whispered, “Maybe not . . .” and heeded the warning. NOT taking the rocky road is a huge victory for my more alert self.

            I suspect my new mantle of prudence will wrap me in security from now on when working at the cabin. I see myself climbing up and down a ladder with paintbrush in hand, and eventually knowing my footing’s sure enough to trek both dry creek beds. It will be done with a slow and steady pace, though.


Actual road I walked!


Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman  

             

Wednesday, March 15, 2023

"Funhouse Mirrors"

 

David Chapman-aritst


Look into the eyes
vacant sockets
hollowed by decadence
and despair
distortions of reality
rippled and waved by experiences
your view, my view
righteous and indignant
warped by conspiracy

Look at the smile
deceitful daggers
grotesque with innuendo
and disbelief
twists of faith
buckled and bent by interpretations
your view, my view
dishonorable and  corrupt
perverted by unknowns

Look for the Truth
barren words
spoken through slanders 
and mystique
sleight of hand
molded and modified by consequences
your view, my view
devout and extreme
destroyed by secrecy



Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


"The Censor"

 



stifle my feelings   
tell me what I can think    
amend my beliefs to fit your own    
control my words with your raised fists    
remove my logic    
suppress my truth with  your denial    
protect your illusions by overpowering reality    
create your stories that rewrite history    
pout and threaten and yell the loudest   
edit and cut until I don’t exist   

David Chapman-artist



Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

You're Not the Boss of Me"

David Chapman-artist

 


eyes flashing
heart pounding
little foot stamping firmly on the ground
a whirlwind
a furious tornado destroying her small world
fingers gripping and yanking
popping and catapulting the doll’s head
clutching the decapitated body to her chest
a ruined toy
bottom lip quivering
eyes brimming and overflowing
words sobbing
“You aren’t the boss of me!”
a bundle of frustration against boundaries
two-year-old temper tantrums
expected and accepted
at twenty-one
a ruined life
pouting lips twist with disdain
defiant words ring with desperation
a demand of attention and love
from a soul contemptuous of compassion
from a heart spoiled and rotting

 Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"On the Outside"

 

Eye See You by David Chapman (in Adobe Illustrator)    


Required attendance  
Yet superfluous and unnecessary  
once there  
out of place  
in the drunken alien celebration   
every weekend of the year  
Standing unnoticed  
Sitting ignored  
Free to observe  
the tribal dance around the fire  
Invited out of habit  
Mandatory appearances  
Yet resented and misunderstood  
for Differences  
pointless as a fork in a bowl of cereal    

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Insight"

 


If they hurt you by their thoughtlessness
            Don’t forgive
If they forget to say, “We care”
            Don’t excuse
If they break all of their promises
            Don’t condone
If they make you feel guilty
            Don’t endure
If they place the blame on you
            Don’t accept
If they make demands upon you
            Don’t embrace
If they break your heart
            Walk away

Copyright 1995 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

Tuesday, March 14, 2023

"Strings Attached"






young and unquestioning
my innocence drew you like a beacon
across the lake
flashing green with naiveté
beckoning for your awareness
my trust encouraged your deceit
allowing you to bind my soul
to your heartless control
artlessly I believed
the façade of friendliness and openness
not perceiving the glass walls
obstructing intimacy
not understanding false promises of family
affected affection fooled me
until I looked beyond your insincere smiles
and suffered the restraints
you attach to your love


Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"A Family's Spin"







Smiles—   
masks worn to hide empty souls   
Hugs—   
embraces feigning loving devotion   
Laughter—   
covers of shrill condemnation and lies   
Closeness—   
disguises of endless discord   
Piety—   
prayers smugly offered for self-adulation   
Family—   
actors preforming prescribed scripts   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 


"You're Not What I Want"

You strut into my life, mirrors for your eyes.   

Bragging on your style and worth, all to cover lies.   
          You demand worship, attention thrown your way.   
          Staging life’s events, you’re an actor in a play.   
                    You’re not what I want, so I’m stepping away.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m leaving you today.

  
You take and take cruelly, all that I can give. 
  
Draining all my love from me, just so you can live.   
          You see no one else, feed only your dark needs.   
          Ignoring all the hearts you break with your selfish deeds.   
                     You're not what I want, so I'm stepping away.   
                     You're not what I want, so I'm leaving you today.   

You expect to hold the world’s blind devotion. 
  
Feigning love and care, your spirit lacks emotion.   
          You think I should thankfully kneel at your feet.   
          Allowing the abusive cycle to repeat.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m stepping away.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m leaving you today.   


Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Poison"

 



Inside   
           buried under smiles   
                     as innocent as childhood   
           hidden by energy   
                     that eats the inner core   
           enveloped with laughter   
                     tinged by hysteria   
           where no one can see, or touch, or feel   
                     the infinite coldness   
Waiting   
           surrounded by darkness   
                     like a corpse in the grave   
           clamped down by a vise   
                     whose claws rip and tear   
           forced into submission   
                     until no one’s looking   
           deep down in the well of pitch, and stagnation, and fear   
                     the infinite coldness   
Outside   
           revealed at last in the eyes   
                     through condemnation and indignation   
           recognized by the putrid stench   
                     of pettiness and intolerance   
           exposed in each word and act   
                     through acid hatred   
           an eruption of vomitus bile—black and caustic   
                     the infinite coldness   
   
Copyright 1997 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
















Unfortunately, many of us experience relationships with individuals who are toxic to our lives. Often, they hide their nature under smiles and hugs, so sometimes it takes years to realize just how much they damage you with their poison.

"Dysfunctional Family"

 




Dysfunctional family that no one wants to see   
Exploding into my face, killing complacency     
A brother-in-law irate since children want to play   
Yells at and bullies young girls, hurts me along the way   
Too many years of silence--turning the other cheek   
Too many days of hiding, of being mild and meek   
The banked fire broke out in flames, searing words were spoken   
Eyes burning, stomach churning, the control was broken   
Children in adult bodies wanting to have their say   
One powerfully monstrous, the other flees away   
A vain struggle in the car would certainly be lost   
Overpowered by brute strength, no way to bear that cross   
Faked submission to bring calm-- hands folded, eyes downcast   
False apologies offered, but nothing that will last   
Dysfunctional family that no one wants to see 
 
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Monday, March 13, 2023

"Verbena"

 


            A lone seed surrounded by stones. With stubborn strength and survival’s goal, this isolated weed flowers on the side of the road. A single splash of purple and green stands against white and cream rocks. Boldly sprouting while separated from other blossoms.

            A few steps down the road, a pair commutes under a cedar tree. Resilient among the rocks, their simple blooms draws attention. Up along the dry creek bed, rests a cluster of verdant emerald with pinker tones flowers within last winter’s grasses.

 
















Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman