Quiet –
The state of mind
You desire.
Fretful –
The state your mind assumes
Eventually.
Peace –
Any semblance of which
You find lacking.
Happiness –
The pursuit of it
Has remained elusive.
Reflection –
A labyrinth you’ve chosen
To get trapped in.
Image Credit: Photo by Bernard Spragg on StockSnap
“Oh to be free”
Thought she
“Like the bird in the sky
Or as it it flies
From tree to tree.”
From her seat,
Down below,
A mere few feet
Above the ground,
It did appear,
Very much as though,
That the skies held the promise
Of limitless freedom,
That was missing down below.
The thoughts she held
Deep within her,
Begged for release;
And stringing them together
As soulful music,
Woven into verse, esoteric,
Seemed pointless.
“Nay!”,
Her heart seemed to say,
“Give me the wings,
To soar high
Into the sky,
And sing –
And sing in wild abandon,
So I could shed the burden,
Of this music
You’ve locked within me;
For to be able to fly,
Is to be able to breathe,
Truly breathe,
It is to be able to be free.”
Image Credit: Photo by Matt Bango on StockSnap
“I won’t get this right”
You think,
“Not now, not ever”.
In some ways,
You weren’t meant to,
It was a battle
You were destined to lose;
But you didn’t know it then,
And you certainly didn’t choose,
To be let loose
Into a veritable lions’ den.
Not without the slightest hint,
Or a semblance of preparation;
And now you are in there,
Quite literally ensnared,
And quite the spectacle,
For an arena of mute spectators.
You swallow the lump,
Rising in the hump
Of your throat,
And you stare,
Right into the eyes
Of the monsters,
Closing in on you,
Ready to give in,
And yet, not quite ready,
To give up in defeat.
Where was the wind,
When the love notes,
Needed sending,
From across the chasm,
That separated the lovers?
Where was the earth,
When all they wanted,
Was a patch of land,
On which to lie down,
And share a moment?
Where was the ocean,
When they sought to flee,
From the angry mob,
Of duelling families,
That found offense
In their union?
Where was the fire,
When their only desire,
Was to be consumed,
By the flames
Of their passion,
Instead of giving hold,
To their assailants?
Where was space,
The expanse of it,
To create for them
A measure of distance,
From those giving chase?
In the end,
None of it mattered,
As they lay twisted
In each others arms,
Their union,
Now out in the open,
Albeit ensconced,
In the embrace of death.
Image Credit: Photo by Wil Stewart on StockSnap
When it was time
For her to deliver,
The fruit of her pain,
She wrapped around her,
The heavy cloak
Of unending shame,
And withdrew,
Before the break,
Of the bleak dawn,
To the hinterland.
Each step she took,
Farther away
From the spritely place,
Of her wonder years,
Drew her deeper,
Into the depths,
Of an engulfing darkness,
Where she lay down herself,
And gasped for breath,
As the harrowing pain,
Of the overpowering shame,
Held her in a tight embrace,
Refusing to let go.
In the throes
Of her agony,
She yearned,
To be delivered
Of her shame,
But it refused;
For it has a way,
Of breaking rules,
So it prolonged
Its gestation,
To resist manifestation,
And while it grew,
She had shrunken,
Until one day,
It drew her in,
And they became one
In essence,
And she finally had
Deliverance,
In turning to dust,
From whence,
She had come.
Where once, you couldn’t run,
For the sake of it,
To get things done,
Or just for fun;
You went ahead,
And ran miles instead.
You ran as if,
Your life depended on it,
Never a moment
When you paused,
To look back;
Instead, you ran away,
And you ran into,
But run you did!
For in staying still,
You were headed downhill,
But in running,
You found purpose,
And you found you could,
Bring to a halt,
The inevitable fall.
Image Credit: Photo by Matt Bango on StockSnap
Maybe your life,
Is all about
Finding a place
Within you,
That is truly yours,
To hold on to.
A beautiful spot,
Perhaps at the core
Of your being,
An ethereal space,
Obscured by others
That surround it;
And yet, almost sacred,
In its essence.
It holds the key
To your being,
Although it stays
Firmly locked,
Until it’s unlocked,
After you’ve fulfilled
Your arduous quest
To discover it.
And in its discovery,
You’ve actually
Found yourself,
In all your glory –
Beneath the layers
Of ignominy,
That you’ve gathered
Over the years.
You’ve found this space,
Staring you in your face,
Saying,
“I’ve been here all along,
When you thought
You had no song
Left in your heart;
I was right here,
For I am yours,
Forever and ever.
Nobody can part us –
Not your biggest fears,
Not your unseen tears,
I’ve always been here,
For you to come back to,
Again and again,
In joy and in pain;
For I am you,
And we are perfect
For each other,
As imperfect as we are,
Me and you.”
Image Credit: Photo by Altered Reality on StockSnap
A simple life,
Is not the coveted prize
That most people desire.
We spend our lives
In the pursuit
Of fame, and grandeur;
Of opulence,
And an abundance
Of everything pleasant.
A taste of success,
Is often not enough,
To keep your heart full.
So you decide,
To spend the rest of your life,
In holding on,
To what you’ve attained.
And so, any hope,
Of a simple life,
Of watching the sun rise,
From your window,
Overlooking the meadow,
Beyond which the earth,
Stretches itself out –
Any hope of ever,
Being able to
Live a life as simple
As that,
You’ve tossed out,
From the window,
In your tiny flat
Perched so high above,
It is in the clouds almost;
In this throbbing city,
Where apparently,
People buy and sell
Myriad dreams,
None of which,
Accord simplicity.
Image Credit: Photo by Matt Bango on StockSnap
I grew up hearing,
And eventually believing,
That to be ignorant
Of things that are,
And that have been,
Is to be at peace.
And perhaps hence,
I shoved events
Less than pleasant,
Out of sight,
And out of my mind,
For the longest time,
Pretending, that all was fine.
Fine has a way
Of showing up,
Every single day,
In the laughter
All around you,
And the spring
In the steps,
That others are taking.
In looking around,
And seeing fine,
In all its shine,
I stopped to listen,
And I realized,
Not without a pang,
That my heart sang,
To a tune, so painfully sad;
Not quite the zing,
That I was hoping
It would be.
And so,
When fine
Had let me know,
That we weren’t together,
I went on a walk,
A rather long one –
Down a forest trail,
To witness the tale
Of restoration,
In nature’s bosom;
The tale of healing,
From wounds so deep,
As if they’d never been.
On my journey back,
I found I’d lost track,
Of everything that
Had sought to distance me,
From fine.
A walk in the greens,
Appears to be,
The perfect remedy,
To making friends
With being fine.
The rock face
Looked intimidating,
A sheer drop,
With no ledges
To break a fall.
Those who approached,
Stood at a distance,
The ground between,
Almost as hallowed
As the monolith’s
Formidable countenance;
Both objects of worship
Through the ages,
The rock face,
And its surrounds,
Revered, and sacred
To meek human folk.
The tumultuous storm,
That strikes and pounds
Against the rock face,
Relentlessly,
Cares not for victory,
Nor defeat,
Nor indeed holy,
Or unholy.
The work of the storm
Through the ages,
Has carved for us,
A foot hold,
On the rock face –
Gone its place
Under the sun,
As a sacred one.
Image Credit: Photo by Bernard Spragg on StockSnap
Chasing Sunshine 