I found beauty my greatest weakness a haze one day leading to Easter when the sun was overcome, shut really by a calm rain. It would peek but never get a chance and as much as I hate the cold, living throughout a day that feels a shadow of my kind of day kept my weakness a length away from my grasp. Sunrise, sunset or my bare feet on our lawn away from my favourite scene, a pint of sadness in a cold day and many others to come. There, winter’s near.
the road I was on
was not even a road,
looking down I saw I was
walking on clouds far above the ground,
catch me, someone help! I’m going to fall,
my life’s story of going unheard,
silence, if not simmering of silence
said to me, why else did I think I was forever alone,
and my thoughts took pity on me?
Anybody, I’m going to fall!
There, below it looked a cluster
I saw no one
perhaps they’d gone to the moon or
hiding from the sun,
I saw a sketch similar to what father hid
that time I walked into his study unannounced,
he chased me away and
I’ve been away since,
I’m going to die!Hello...
Till I remembered I’d only just realized
It wasn’t a road I was on,
but had been on since I woke
from childhood amnesia.
I’ve defined my loneliness.
I belong to the state, not known by myself, by the one starring out a window on a rocking chair, to the bean or spark started in mother’s womb long when I could tell is with many faces I’ve come across and forgotten, will not allow me to draw my dreams in my diary.
death brought to my door faces with their masks beautifully put in place the masks, perhaps time better left unsaid
“she could’ve lived her life well.”
I mourn looking at the picture by the window frame, does fragrance of her hot beverage relate to her like colour red to blood?
she with me, she without me. I should’ve walked on not looking what I was stepping on.
“I vow she lived well.”
care to explain where life truly begins? without time and a mirror, how could I have met myself?
I belong to the state, held together by breath asleep and unaware, her hope is false hope kicking in mother’s womb no longer a bean.
the best friend I grew up doing everything with. One time took liking to my favourite doll, thought of it moon’s stay, passed it over. Upon her gleam, held her hand ran along to our tree house. Our sleepovers, and fireflies we caught in a bottle argued about letting them go while I persisted it’d be us opening the door for ghosts after they fly away. Her holding my hand, clarity in the eyes that never minded my insistent looking; saying
“I’m here with you, don’t be scared.”
falling asleep facing one another, our hands clasping like the grip fighting against time. Next morning, waking to an empty side that’s never known coldness; then running to my house faster than my heartbeat could ever carry my small legs with tears streaming down my chubby face.
“Ma, did ghosts take Seer away like they did Papa?” “Nani, you won’t be seeing Seer anymore. She has two houses now and like you, will be living at her mother’s house.”
Perhaps my dreams know, I am a disloyal woman, not to this life nor world since I glance at them but, discord cannot spring as I, I’ve never truly looked at either with obedience due their respect whereas have given me a reflection and I reflect thoughts both don’t know were stolen by my curiosity; but to myself, the woman planting seeds of those very dreams and since, I could never give them what I’ve never had in my possession; made attempts to produce or acquire, intimacy when they guide me further or acceptance of the touch they’ve held with me consistently, hence they felt need to leave my head. Perhaps my dreams, had known from birth; I am neither supportive nor negligent but are rather floating in my conscious would not strengthen my character to pick even the dust this world and life, sheds when accommodating me, alas; I give up…
My loneliness has painted me an afterthought not put away but highlighting the bigger picture, there by the sun’s shadow; it feels everytime I move I can’t see where I’m going nor where I’m from, black and soot, misty – overall not seeing.
how falling leaves feel, fulfilling the circle of life, to the ground their yellowish brown they go to be swept away or eaten by mites. Do they fall willingly, slowly in acceptance and sway to the wind’s familiar touch they know would not be familiar?
But like myself we’re here to let the sun grace us as many times it’ll never stop at our toes.
I’ll call love an adventure in the hands of time. look, it was you and I from the way we saw the sun to the water we grew up drinking; how our lands shared nothing but the same breath it was beyond the sky’s limit or destiny’s knowing smirk. We redifined finding purity heaven had offhandedly let go. I love you I said simplicity in which those words were said could be misread or taken lightly, hovered there like that rain that wouldn’t fall I held on waiting for a chance and you held on thinking it might be too soon and we met, finally the time that gave us glimmer of hope we met, our eyes’ collision those souls wouldn’t you say, may have already known each other?
If I haven’t lived it, and my thoughts aren’t able to take me there, that is true sadness, there I’m defeated.
Don’t laugh, this is said by someone who’s known hunger, truly now fears the coming days I, I’m not defeated yet.
See the common birds, I’m sure they have names I’ve been watching them fly this during the day,
heard them chirp when I was about to finally close my eyes and somehow found they mock me, with their tiny bodies, withdrawing wings they get close to the sky, could tell where my mother’s gone yet watched me slave away from a tree?
I’m learning to cover my ears the world’s registered many sounds but my name
Don’t laugh, we haven’t had water for days I stink the old lady told me again our worries differ. She told me never to stand under the rain though…
She said mother’s coming tomorrow with a baby she bought, all this while I thought she’d went to find father but my stomach’s been telling me all day it’s too empty and would like company, I stole again.
When I grow up I’ll become a beautiful lady everyone’s been saying so. What is it to be beautiful?
How old am I now? in my thoughts and seasons I skipped school, I cannot say I know. Perhaps like the world’s forgotten to check up on me?
I want to run away to where the sun sets only to watch it rise again, I’ll return home afterwards.
How the rainy days that peek in summer don’t ignite my fireplace contentment but a rather pitiful melancholy, knowing too the sun should rest. I miss my lover since his away.
I can’t relenquish to sudden change not this change, I can’t catch my heart being stirred in a way it feels it’s hiding behind a curtain neglected and cannot affrim it’s mood.
These rainy days I know they’re laying carpet for winter and my lover on his way home to a furlon living room, quiet house is the mischief of me covered head to toe in sadness, The sun, kisses on my skin The sun, my eyes alight with rapture but there in our unlit home is coldness of unprecedented change; He was gone too long.