Chasing Sunshine

All these nuggets

From the distant past

That come rushing in

Like shrapnel from a blast,

But at times

A gentler trickle

Seeping in through random crevices –

No matter though, their flow

They are fickle,

Or at least, the lighter

Of them are;

Although,

The intense ones,

That evoke emotions

Often hard to bear,

Tend to linger,

Like dark storm clouds

Pregnant with moisture,

Awaiting the right moment

To cave in,

And inundate

Your sense of control,

Over your fate.

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The flowers bloomed

In gay abandon

All together

‘Neath the sun and the moon,

Except the single stalk

That stood aloof,

When the wind blew,

And swept through

That vast expanse

Of floral mass,

They bent low

All together,

And though sideswept,

They withstood

The worst weather,

Except the single stalk

Which was felled forever,

Having had no support.

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The path you are on

On your morning run,

Is as narrow

As much as it is strenuous –

And yet, you soldier on;

There are no fellow runners

For as far as you can see,

And the one or two you meet

Eventually,

Pause long enough

To greet,

All you have going for you

Is yourself,

You carry your own water,

Your shades and GPS,

You sing to still your fear

Of getting lost,

You sing so loud, you’re sure

Someone will hear

And sing along,

But no, there’s nothing,

Except for the birdsong.

You keep at it

For you’re so far in,

That you can only finish

What you’ve begun,

And so you run;

And somewhere along the way

You realize,

That you are having fun,

That there is joy

In being on your own,

With the birds and the trees

To keep your dreary soul company.

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If I had a daughter
We would play together,
Seeking fairies
In the wild bushes,
We would run
In a field of dandelions,
And build castles,
Lots of them –
On the beach, and in the air;
I would braid her hair,
And we’d eat all the candy floss,
At the annual fair.

If I had a daughter,
I would teach her,
To take what is hers
Without fear,
To speak up –
For herself and for those around,
To pick her battles,
And win them.

If I had a daughter,
I would teach her
To be bold,
And not do only what she’s told,
I’d teach her to just ignore
The naysayers,
The well wishers,
The worldly wise,
The young, the old,
And the religious folks –
All of whom
Would try to break her,
So they could mold
A young person
Into one, of their liking –
Docile and subservient.

If I had a daughter,
I would tell her
To give the vicious world
Her anger,
I would fuel her hunger
To grab her place,
Her rightful place –
At the table, the banquet hall or the space!
Wherever it is,
That she believes,
She will find peace,
And happiness, lots of it!

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The piece of your heart

That desires peace,

Is outweighed by others;

One burdened by hurt,

And another,

By deep, unspoken fears.

For mere desires,

Cannot douse

The fiery reality

Of roaring fires;

That rage within,

They can only be quelled,

When the throbbing

Is finally stilled.

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The little sailboat

Tried to stay afloat,

Despite being caught

In the throes of a storm;

It tried so hard,

Braving the waves

That tossed it around,

Even upside down,

Until at last

Its weakened mast,

Gave in,

And the storm scored a win;

While the sailboat

Lay broken in defeat,

Carried away

By the ravenous waves,

That will not remember

That brave little warrior,

And yet, it did exist.

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I

A candle burns brightest

When it’s nearing the end,

And when the wind

Blows right in its face;

That is when the flame

Arches and twists, full of grace,

But fiery nevertheless.

A candle does not

Just quietly, go out,

From its meek beginning,

It peters out in style

Right before your eyes,

Its glow, ever brightening

Until it gives up.

II

To be meek and mild

Is not a failing,

But if the child within you

Is somewhat wild,

Straining against the shackles

You’ve held it in,

Unleash its fire,

And let its flame,

Light up every dark space

Of your life.

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In the middle of the day,

One wouldn’t expect

The sun to take a break,

And cease to shine,

Stopping the march of time,

That’s not done, nay!

I remember when

It did happen,

It was almost as if,

The sun didn’t exist –

That it was an elaborate myth,

That was finally exposed,

When the veil lifted

From our deceived eyes;

The birds went wild

Milling the sky,

A right melee!

If only you could see

Any of it properly,

And then,

Just when

Everyone had decided,

That the world was coming

To an abrupt end,

There was the faintest hint

Of a ring of light,

Ever expanding,

Until it revealed

The truant star,

Resplendent in its glory.

And boy, am I glad

That I lived to tell the story!

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Don’t hold on to moments,
Let them go –
Time
Is caught in a current,
With a perpetual progressive flow;
There is no going back,
The wisps of memory
That appear in a flash,
Are but a trickery,
An elaborate ruse
Posing as your muse,
As you trudge through
A mundane life,
Hoping for moments
Suspended in time
To return to you,
Through the portal of your mind;
Never quite accepting
The depth of the illusion.

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Send me to the mountains
To spend my life
In exile,
Banish me from your midst,
Where I struggle to exist,
And gift yourselves
The reset you deserve.

As for me,
I’ll roam the wilderness
Of the lonely slopes,
Breaking off wild stalks
And sucking on them,
While reflecting
To my mind’s content,
On beauty,
Found in bounty,
There on the mountains,
Where my heart
Will finally beat
A gentle retreat
From the bitter grief,
And my mind,
My aggrieved, injured mind,
Will take its time
To forget all that’s not worthwhile,
And finally heal.

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