"Even in the Beginning"

 

even in the beginning

your smiles never reached your eyes

your innocuous words disguised your intent

as your fear festered into resentment 

even in the beginning

you ignored overtures of friendship

your instinctive defenses kicked into place

as your panic mired you into an abyss of hatred 

even in the beginning

your radar sounded alarms

your battle instincts honed your cruelty

as your protection of family obsessed you

even in the beginning

your projections became reality

your denials and lies believable

as you rewrote history to fit your views

even in the beginning

your rationalizations rang with sincerity

your bitterness overtaking your soul

as you attacked to annihilate a phantom 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Careless Words"

Careless words cast without thought
bristle under my skin
leave me empty
Careless words sucker punch me
demean my life
belittle my dreams
Careless words stated as fact
insult my views
binding me in heartache
Careless words spoken to wound
choke and repress
make me mourn 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Ulterior Motives"

 

Doubt fills my heart when I hear your words—

excuses offered upon the alter

I no longer believe

Cynicism flows within my bloodstream

my hair prickles on the back of my neck—

warning, warning, warning, warning

Caution

Take care

You promise paradise and salvation—

redemption and forgiveness

for my trespasses

as you sin again and again

Proffering your version of God—

distorted through your visions

You raise your voice in righteousness—

indignant with my humanism

you pray for my soul

You—so callous and uncaring

of all suffering

but your own

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Her Fall"

 

I held your tiny hand, tugged you away from danger    

            carried you safely to the other side    

I protected you from water’s edge and ocean’s undertow—      

            the drowning tears of your uncertainties   

I watched from the sidelines as you changed—  

dwindling into someone I no longer recognized  

Now, dismay burdens me,    

cements me in place as you scale the precipice  

I call out, “Don’t! Turn back! Wait for me!”  

            as your compulsion drives you higher, higher  

I perceive the cracks in your mask  

            even as you disillusion those who still believe in you     

I reach futilely skyward, my feet anchored in place,  

            unable to halt your ascent over crumbling rock  

I try, and try again, to guide you to sure footing      

            but you ignore my words, indulging in illusions of independence  

I weep, a witness to your self-destruction,      

as your frailties and obsessions force your fall 

 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

  

“My Favorite Field of Flowers”

             Last year, driving under Loop 1604 to head for St. Hedwig, new construction marred the once open farm land. Gas stations and fast food restaurants flanked the exit while signs for a new housing development promised homes starting at $200, 000. The road into the complex and three or four skeletons of large homes hinted that “progress” invaded our treasured rural area. For many springs, we’d take off on Saturday or Sunday mornings for a thirty mile loop from our house through St. Hedwig and over back roads until we circled back to Live Oak. During one of these treks, we discovered a stretch of road with a windmill and an endless field of flowers.

            This year, more signs of San Antonio sprawling east scarred the area. My heart hitched a beat or two as our usual route detoured due to construction on I10. The bare-boned houses from last year now stretched to the right in multiple streets of completed homes—all bold, ugly squares that scarred the landscape. I worried that my favorite field of flowers would now be plowed under.

            A turn down one road that winded eastward took us to the field and relief flooded my soul. The windmill still stood against the blue morning sky with its flowers a colorful blanket below it. I felt confident that the second wildflower spot, further down the road, would stretch along the lane. No new construction blemished this part of our drive. I don’t know what the future holds, but for now gratefulness fills me that this field of flowers remains untouched.

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman