Resistance (Poetry)

(From Ginny’s diary)

I will not think about him.

I cannot think about him — for such thoughts
set up their camp close-by my city walls
threatening to invade me like an army — trample
all I’ve built and undermine my will to carry on
with my chosen way of life — my roles
as passably good mother
and a loyal and loving wife.

I must resist this wild and so-persistent dream
that tries to occupy my mind —
sets up a hailstorm of brain-damaging proportions...

I feel these changes — emotional weather patterns
send gatecrashing winds that clash and moan
scream ridiculous defiance and provoke
a squall of tears.

Alone I gather calmness to restore
some sense of order from such chaos — let the inner door
to sense and reason open — welcome through
a soothing voice to balance — talk me out of mad ideas
I should not even contemplate.

I risk calamity. I know that far too well.

I need to cleanse and meditate before
I put the infiltrator out —
send him packing while I still have strength
enough to stop weak ramparts of my flesh tumbling
and the heart’s pure architecture blackened by
a fierce unholy fire and burned
to a sad ruin.