Monday, May 28, 2012

In Their Eyes


In her eyes, I see
The latent power
Of a winter’s tree,
Its branches preparing to flower
Come the breath of Spring.

But, in his eyes, I am withered, weak,
Rough bark, no leaves,
I have passed my peak,
No more tricks up my sleeves,
Nothing worth a fling.

My roots, he’ll abuse,
For they’ve already turned gray,
My wood, he will use
For a cold winter’s day,
My insipid persistence, he’ll be deploring.

In the Stars, my fate I see,
My wood burning slow,
The wind blowing free,
The flames lying low,
And my ashes, they are rising.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Snowflake Paralysis

A single snowflake kissed my cheek
As it landed and melted into oblivion,
Transforming into a miniature puddle
On my bare skin.
Sin proper burial,
The snowflake’s remains solidified,
And, aided and abetted by the wind,
Stung me to my very core.
Through the howling,
I heard your voice—
The ghost of your shadow
Haunted me yet,
A reminder of unfinished business.
The eerie solitude evoked
Tears of possibilities,
And they, too, were frozen
At the hand of improbabilities.
Distant from the warmth of thought,
My extremities began to numb,
But the fire at the centre of my being,
Though dwindle it might, would never die,
For it was self-sustaining.

I was left in a precarious state,
Mind, body and soul in stale-mate—
I had no power to beat the frost,
Nor the memories I wished lost.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Bottom of the Pool

The chlorinated water splashed ever so slightly
When I jumped in, leaving my entrance unnoticed.
As my toes sank to the ground,
I opened my eyes and extended my arms,
Lifting the water above my head,
Just as I had been taught.
I managed to cross my legs and have a seat.
A fixture, I remained steady,
Bubbles strategically escaping my lips.
I watched as limbs of various shapes, shades and sizes
Gradually disappeared.
So gradually, that it was sometime before
I noticed the pool was empty.
When I finally realized I was alone,
I closed my eyes,
For I had nothing left to exhale.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Whistle-Blower

She could hear him still, across the tracks,
Singing his sweet song of goodbye.
Her voice joined his for the final refrain,
And he looked at her, a meaningful gaze
That diffused through the silent air
And intoxicated her with its sweet perfume.
However, in a daze, she could not discern its meaning.
His eyes conveyed the sadness of farewell, no doubt,
But perhaps, as well, a secret regret
Yet on its meaning, she would not dwell,
For perhaps it was naught but wishful thinking.
She smiled, instead, and clung to the vision
That had breathed life into her being,
Anticipating the moment she would be torn
Asunder and forced to face a starless sky.
A rumbling followed by
A quick exchange of longing looks
Was interrupted by two distinct whistles
And a cloud of steam.
She took a seat by the window
And looked out over the divide,
Feigning to ignore the lovers
And relations that embraced goodbye.
He placed his fist against the glass
And fixed his starry gaze on her.
At last, before his neck could sprain,
She smiled a nostalgic smile and turned away,
But the darkness of the tunnel soon quenched her thoughts.
She looked up and there was the sky,
Black, and not a star in sight.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Bubble-Wrap


Some people build walls to protect their hearts
From attack.
But the problem with walls is that
You can’t hear through them,
So you don’t know when the assailant
Is on the other side,
Preparing to strike.
And we all know
Walls fall down.
Bridges burn—
And walls crumble.

So next time you decide to build a protective barrier,
Use bubble-wrap.
That way, you can see through it,
And you will hear the sound of
Any assailant attempting to pop through,
Leaving you time to prepare.
And if the purported assailant
Turns out to be both conqueror and savior,
Well, then
You will have made it a little easier to be saved.  

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Opening Doors


Doors close easily.
What is hard is to open
A door that is closed.
They say when one door closes,
Another opens.
But there is not always an automatic
Sensor.
Sometimes, we have to open the door ourselves.

But the uncertainty of what awaits us on the other side
Forces us to pause, at times step back,
Other times, run the hell away.
Sometimes, the door is sliding glass.
How grateful we are when we see what we get—
Yet sometimes, we forget that we have to slide the door open,
And we walk straight into the glass,
Ending up with a bump,
Losing our balance,
Wondering what happened- we had been so close,
What we wanted had been just within reach.
Other times, the door is revolving.
We walk through it,
But we end up right back where we started.
And yet other times, the door is opaque.
I opened such a door once,
And everything on the other side came crashing down.

So how do we find the courage to open a door?
We remember that if we do not reach out to turn the handle,
Push the button or slide the glass,
We will be forced to move backwards or remain stagnant,
And will deprive ourselves of the chance to move forward,
To grow, to live.