Brenda-Lee Ranta is an author/poet who resides in Timmins, Ontario, Canada. She began writing poetry 52 years ago, a practice she has cherished throughout her life, as a form of journaling, which recorded events throughout her lifetime.
She is a mother of three children, two step children and a grandmother. Brenda-Lee shares her artistic journey with her divine partner, who is also a published poet, lyricist and musician.
She was first published in the Anthology, ‘Imperfect Paths,’ by CTU Publishing Group in 2016, later going on to have two full books of her own poetry published, Myriad of Perceptions, and Allegories – a Thirst for Connection. She has since been included in a further three Anthologies, published by CTU Publishing Group, of which she was extremely honored. She also worked as the Creative Director on the Anthology, ‘I Have a Name,’ Creative Talents Unleashed. This is Brenda-Lee’s first novel, the product of what she considers a mystical life.
Here are a few excerpts from Brenda-Lee’s latest book A Soul Passenger
The sun almost hissed as it disappeared behind the trees. Cool air finally came in through the car window, a few mosquitos picked at her arms as she clutched soggy tissues in her hands. Eyes swollen, she was grateful for dusk, in case someone else decided to park at the lake that night. Rolling up the window, she reclined her seat, listening to her CD’s, trying not to think; her brain never stopped.
She came here too often now. At least two nights a week she would park at the lake and cry. Some nights her mind couldn’t formulate cohesive thought. Desperate for a way out of her pain, feeling trapped; knowing she could never leave her children, some nights believing death was her only escape. She seethed with anger at herself, for letting it get this far. She seethed with anger at him, for not respecting her or the children enough to at least try to be kind or loving. Ultimately, she laid the blame directly upon herself for not finding a way out, long before now.
Her children were avoiding being at home, like rats jumping from a sinking ship. Her oldest daughter had simply left town entirely, boarding a plane to meet a total stranger. She felt a failure as a mother. Each one of them wanted to be anywhere but home, including herself. She feared that if she didn’t do something soon, she would lose all her kids to the streets. Her youngest was already seeking the attention and validation from young men that she wasn’t getting from her father.
One last cigarette she decided. She had decided that five times already. Aching, despair – all consuming, she watched as smoke rings wafted about her. She hid her well- worn journal under her car seat. In resignation she turned the key, making her way down the dark streets, to a place called home.
My dreams have evaporated into thin air
I am nothing more than an empty vessel
with a face of pasted smiles
While eyes tell a thousand truths
staring back at me
from a steamed-up mirror
My fingers trace the words
“who am I?” upon it,
I watch as the words
slowly evaporate too
As the weekend arrived, so did trepidation. The two of them confined in a house together. Work was her only consolation, keeping her mind busy, filling her days with something organized, a modicum of sanity. Pleasantries exchanged between co-workers without sarcasm or tirades. Brandi knew how to smile, how to paste on her business face, laughing appropriately at the right times, commenting professionally when asked something. Diligently following the soothing routines of the day.
Continued in book….
A Soul Passenger–Now Available
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