Hurting souls do hurtful things, they beat what they cannot bend!
For they have learned a single language of hurt themselves!
Their nasty words are treasured tools, their beloved weapons,
And their fists bestow a gleam of power where none exists!
But I have seen gentle souls carrying the baggage of hurts,
Yet their tools are loving words and healing hands!
Don’t mock me with your woeful tales, and your past of hurts,
You are what you chose to be, what you revel in!
Crawling letters spatter across my phone,
Recording the depths of my wavering moods,
Paper and pen used to do that once but times have changed!
And so have changed my feelings of love,
And the sense of hatred and justice,
So easily stirred once now stays dormant and quiet!
But other feelings so profound, my guilt and fears,
At every step, I question now if I am doing my best,
To nurture and care and create a safe world!
I chuckle at times how little emotions drove me mad,
Once when I was young that I choose to royally ignore now,
And my soul more precious to me than my face!
Or the faces of the people around and the ones I meet,
I try to see if they will hurt or nourish my growing soul,
For now, I have no time for foolish trickeries!
Let’s stop adulting and go back to that noon,
When we rushed to the sounds of airplanes above our head,
Waving goodbyes to traveling strangers
Confident they waved us back!
And join the crowd around the icecream stalls which still were far from the fancy ones we get now,
But the ones that painted our tongues in all hues of orange and red and blue and purple.
Let’s stop adulting and go back to those evenings when we chased fireflies,
And put them in those mason jars and giggled and laughed when they brightened our faces,
And to those chilly nights warmed by the little bonfires,
And me dozing in and out of sleep as my grandma’s voice
Felt like a lullaby sending me to a world of dreams!
your priorities you show and I show my hunger
to stay alive and to breathe and to smile
while the heavy heart pulls me down hearing another tone of your voice
the voice that oscillates betweeen love and hate and hate and love
that my mind wonders if this is real
If you are real for it is hard
to hate and love and love and hate
at the same time for who does that
your priorities and I poles apart pulling and pushing
pushing and pulling our lives apart
as I start to think I mean the world and the stars and the moon
only to know and understand that I lay somewhere
in the millionth fraction of your heart just because I exist
for if i didnt exist no change to your world
no change to your existence
Incomplete footsteps and incomplete me,
On those orange evenings,
When I walked the winding road,
To reach my home in the hills.
Talking to the wind that brought
Your breaths from your distant land,
Comforting and reassuring that I am not alone!
The misty blanket of snow is melting. Maybe spring is not far behind. Soon the squirrel by my window will stop sleeping in his nest of cardboard papers covering the snow. Light green leaves will sprout and flowers will bloom. We will go for long walks again.
Birds will sing their songs,
The flowers too colourful,
Will light up the heart!
(Tried a Haibun poem)
As the snow lessened, the gentle breeze blew,
You sat with a list of things to do,
Summer tip-toeing in lending its hand,
Your little ones happy to see winter end,
All the happy places eager for your view,
And the sandy beaches little did they knew,
How footsteps will decline
and all those happy minds
Will turn a dark red
And all things bad
Will overwhelm
Life itself!
Your guilty pleasure sending my way,
A bouquet of hurts, to trample and pin,
The spirit of love, and the soul of a bird,
That I have, to soar and fly!
Your guilty pleasure moulding my life,
The way you need,
Leaving clasping, leaving clasping,
Till my feet are exhausted!!
