Life is a never ending vicious cycle
And this is reminder from up above..
If there are toothy grins,
they are always going to be followed by wretched and griefs
If there are days bitterer than the gourd
there will also be those days sweet enough to kill you of diabetes
Every oasis will have a desert surrounding it
You just need to keep your faith alive
and the glint of good hope will always be on your way
You may not always see it
but that’s how, it’s meant to be. Always.
I waited patiently for the world to follow
To adjust
To reset
And comprehend what I had just said
I gave myself the same courtesy
A minute
A day
Maybe two to process their meaning
They weren’t anything special
Nothing spectacular
Nothing memorable
The words that left my mouth
But something felt right
A click
An acknowledgment that maybe
just maybe I was meant to say them
They were meant to be heard
I waited silently for the world to follow
To stop spinning for a second
For just one moment
As I let the words leave my lips
Free my tongue of their grasp
Their power which clung to my thoughts
Through sleep– no sleep
What is sleep when these words are present?
In my thoughts
Always
Through daylight
And menial tasks so often required
To sustain life in this world
To feign sanity
Wrought by a wavering focus
They were nothing to be remembered
Really
Anything but important
To the outside observer
To a distant onlooker
But perhaps that’s why I remembered
The way they felt as I spoke
Why I recited the time
The place
The date of which I said them
Over and over
And over again
In my head
The breath that came before and after
I opened my mouth
The pause between each word
Each syllable
To ensure perfect deliverance
Perhaps that’s why they’ve stuck with me all these months
All these years
Later
They were honest
The last words I said to you
“……I will be an old lady one day and I will sit on that rock and when I see myself sitting there I see myself happy, with a smile on my face and I feel I have achieved something in this life. I did good and I look at you even if you are not there and say to you: You can be proud of me. This is how much I care for you. This is your effect on me….”
A conversation between a you and an old woman
Old woman !
Look at me: Young, Firm, Virile
My breasts are like pink tufted buds
on the spring azalea
My lips are like the flamingo’s breast –
pink, soft –
My mons – that secret place only we have
is warm, rich, enticing…….
My neck, long and supple
like Helen’s
My eyes are black, olive-round
My smile, would make Mona Lisa blush
with shame.
Old woman !
Were you ever so ?
Did you ever love ?
Did you know passion ?
Look at you……
Your skin droops
Your breasts sag
Your eyes are clouded
Your mons is dry.
Did you ever know love ?
Ah, my young beauty
Once I too was young and beautiful
Men looked at me with longing
I was the object of desire of many.
But two of these, I remember
even in my old age, I remember.
Tell me old woman,
Tell me of your love
Where are these men ?
Where is your love ?
Why do you sit here
on this rock
looking out to sea,
smiling but
alone
alone
My young beauty
I knew a man
who was my husband
I loved him
with my heart and my head
He was my all
I was complete with him
But then, I was destroyed
I found another man
I found I was not complete
I was missing a piece
This other man was my completion
my half.
Oh my young beauty
Oh my daughter
love is a splendid thing
but a dangerous one as well
Like a sword
you may use it to slay your enemies, or
you may handle it poorly
and injure yourself
Such is love
Of my husband I will tell you nothing
This is still too painful to me.
But of the other
Oh my daughter
may I sing to you
of him.
This was a man
older than I
intense as a bonfire
A man who was
unable to love
in half measures
A man who became my greatest love
my friend
my half
A man who once whispered to me
“Let me show you how I would love you”
And, my daughter, he did !
Do not blush
my child
when I tell you that I would see heaven several times in an evening
This was the intensity of the love we had
And more,
we spoke
we walked
we read
we worked
we laughed
we sang – although my daughter a donkey could sing better than he ! –
we read poetry
This man, my half, wrote me poems
from his heart
so much did he love me
But my dear grandmother !
You are alone
Where is this love of yours ?
Why is he not here ?
Is he dead ?
Did you lose him ?
How did you lose him ?
My daughter
Oh my child !
There are men who cannot love in half or quarter measures
he was one.
He frightened me so
He was always afraid I would push him away
even though I said
“I am not doing this”
He was
a strong man
But I watched as he dissolved
into mist
gone
I could no longer touch him
Did I leave him ?
Did he leave me ?
Oh my daughter
love is so fragile
so fragile
A bond that seems strong
can be shredded with a few words.
But my dear grandmother
Where is he ?
Tell me…..
My child,
look over your shoulder
He stands with me still
whispering into my ear
“I love you more than my life”
“I will never leave you”
But he is as a mist
Oh my daughter
My child
we are young but for a moment
We make decisions we think are good
Sometimes, they simply are
Sometimes, we make them without thinking
My child
you will blink and your youth will be gone.
You will be as am I,
here
on this rock
You will learn to love
And then will lose all
Have I made mistakes ?…
Old woman,
tell me your name….
My child
My great love called me many names
all I cannot repeat here
so much pain could it still cause
But Helen, Persephanie
Penelope
All these names he called me……
and others
Old woman !
These are my names !
The man I love calls me by these names
Who are you old woman ?
What are you ?
Neither the old nor the young woman knows:
Is this real ?
Is this a dream ?
Is there a chance ?
Instead of mourning the soul is lost in the wilderness,
wandering thr’u the weary fate of crooked tunnels
to find eternal rainbows of myriad hues.
Then the dawn breaks open and life is re-born,
like the cracking open of shells to hail it’s reincarnation after all is lost.
And it’s depiction of many souls are like leaves on sunlit paths,
finally restored.
Genre: Hope, Hurt, Rhyme, Sad, Society and Kids
—-
Home is gone, stolen by our enemy.
Home is broken, and nothing left for me.
Now I live in the wreck of an old van,
And my pillow is a soiled baking pan.
Sweet home, can I find another one new?
Home is not a place there is an army.
Home is where there is daddy and mommy.
Daddy is not here because of a gunman.
Mommy is not here because of a masked man.
The gunman and the masked man, shame on you.
Home is where all my friends are around me.
Home is where I can play with Salami.
I saw a pretty boy in a turban,
I tried to play with him here but he ran.
Why his mom won’t let him, I never knew.
Home is where I always fill my tummy.
Home is where my hunger makes me happy.
I can’t follow mommy’s nutrition plan,
When my meal is from the Bantus’ trash can.
Taste and hunger, my companions anew.
Home is where the cold will never catch me.
Home is where the insects will not bite me.
The sun has given me more than a tan,
And blisters I wear like a cardigan.
A pain more than this is only a few.
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