Attempted

172.

I know what it is like to cradle regret

To search for a ghost long gone

Shyly keeping the umbrella of two to oneself

Wavering in grey principles

Trapped in the labyrinth of the mind.

 

And yet I know also to grab on to chances

To say I miss you more than ever

Sending the letter written hastily

Hand reaching out despite not knowing

Leaving doubts and fears behind.

 

Sometimes chances and regrets are going to look the same but until I know what lies in my hands, I will choose to stay.

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162.

I am angry

At the sun that sets while my fury is blazing

 

I am angry

At the planet that keeps spinning when there is a great evil invading

 

Monsters of the mind

There is a nail bomb set in a building

A rampant scattering piercing young innocent flesh

Crucified for the pleasure of the wicked

 

Monsters of the mind

There is a plane forced into a destination of none

Set flying to perpetuate a grieving of the land dwelling

An aircraft veiled as the mystery of Atlantis

 

If my words could take physical form

They are flaming arrows breaking into the lair of the corrupted

Purifying what shed blood cannot

 

If my words could take physical form

They are lit lanterns floating in the vengeful sky and crying streams

A cause to hope and love for those left behind

 

People are uncomfortable

To speak of race, gender, sexuality and religion

Associations that seem to divide humanity

 

People are uncomfortable

To understand the difference between equality and equity

To surrender a power held tightly to the chest

 

This is why I write

Be it a leaky pen or a furious typing

So that my words will teach the head how to dream and form a better tomorrow

 

This is why I write

Despite my clumsy stuttering and uncontrollable sobbing

So that one day there will be no more wars and cruel greed to turn family upon family.

157.

How are you feeling?

 

How

 

do you find yourself just the way you are, that you sit there with arms folded across a length comparable to the horizon

 

Are

 

you alright in the things you do, where you laugh and smile at the people around you, do you find yourself reaching

 

You

 

are a treasure but do you know that? Could you very well be a treasure hidden from yourself

 

Feeling

 

down and small, like you’re never quite anything at all, but you, my dear friend, is someone I would try for everyday to grow and love more, that you are someone I will continue to care for

 

Don’t you know…?

 

Your smile makes the flowers grow.

151.

Why me? he finally asks

And the other, why

Stood smiling, unnerving he

 

I am small and rudely insignificant

More sooner gone than here

The nuisance of a sandy grain left in the shoe

Dust upon dust crumbling

Remains buried in cold earth.

 

Why you? He replies

And the other, which

Hastily looked away from the Maker

 

Upon you I lavished love and stumbling affection

A mark remaining ages after

The refuge for the raging ocean

Masterpiece in the unlikely

The soil in which the beautiful grow.

 

Why me? he whispers in quiet wonder

And the other, He

Gently extends the nail-pierced hands as a gift to be received.

129.

Why do people speak in the midst of a breaking?

Waiting for the boom of fireworks, the roar of a thunderclap

By the bedside of possible death, a wave of congratulations

 

Maybe this is it:

That humans have a softness for honesty

To see truth leave one’s trembling lips

To speak the unsayable because that makes it so incredible

 

Yet we fear consequence:

The rejection, the disgust, the ardent whispers turned into despicable shouting

 

We forget that consequence can also have a wellspring of affection:

The leaning of heads, an iron-grip hug, the removing of a dried leaf from one’s hair

 

We are animated dust kicking up a storm

Leaving sunshine and rain wherever we go

Footprints in the sand eventually swallowed by the mighty ocean

In spite of it all we aspire to be more than just this

 

We climb mountains, we search for new horizons

Finding for a place or someone reminding us to simply be

A map lost, and no place to return to

 

Yet one day, there will be a time when you will watch the sunrise reflected in their quiet eyes

Sleepy yawns gently tugging at the consciousness before a dangerous falling in

And when they ask why you have kept your eyes on them this is what you will say:

 

Once upon a time when no one knew

You defied the odds and became the neglected miracle in the dark

In a world filled with incalculable possibilities we are both here

I thank my God a thousand times for this incomparable moment

 

Blush they will, or turn away

Yet the sly sneak peek will show your shadow melting into theirs

This confession coming clear in spite of your speaking in the midst of a seashore breaking

 

Pick up a seashell, more than one

Build small emblems of devotion with driftwood and hard stones

Let them know, let them know, that even as you are playfully carving names in the ground

That their diminutive smile is a compass, mirthful laughter its tracks

A sign that there might be a home to go to

 

There is so much in a glance

Even as it lies wide open or a furtive sneak

There is so much more

111.

You step out in my attentive suit

Pillows, pills and bills block your way

I find tear-stained sheets

Who were you at 3AM?

 

There you go in the evenfall

Lined artwork bleeding

Kitchen glass breaking

Bright eyes seeking

The sound of a throat constricting

Suspire and oxygen melting

Someone who is no longer here.

 

Many people do you meet:

The boy keeping a stash

The girl laughing too hard

The man feeding his meal to the cat

The woman sharpening the knife

In the library, the bridge under, the computer screen

Each knowing the smiles meant goodbye.

109.

I see you.

You, taking the time to stoop and remove shattered glass from the walkway.

 

I see you.

You, graciously leaving the seat for the sake of another.

 

I see you.

You, slowing down to watch the flowers grow with a smile on the face.

 

I see you.

You, listening when the world no longer gave a care.

 

I see you.

You, willing to disappear when you mean so much more that you realise.

 

I see you.

You, broken up with a million constellations bursting in the brain.

 

I see you.

You, fragile and beautiful one.

 

I see you.

I’ve seen you now and a million more.

100.

He said, you’re not like other children

The disappointment of a father evident

Hiding the tears of a sobbing wife

Shunning leers from prying neighbours

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Depending on the boy’s mood

He cries profusely into pillows

He makes mad crayon sketches across the wall

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Finding symbols in things unmeant

Hearing what others cannot

Seeing all the colours in invisible light

Feeling the cracks on the floor

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Insistently speaking to a twin who is not there

Drawing friends with no eyes

Watching trapped bugs melt in spider webs when others would choose to play with dogs and cats.