I have forgotten
from long ago
on how I scribbled on my pad paper,
with my fat pencil. A namesake
I inherit
a birth right I shared
with Ryan,
a brother, no one has seen.
My twin.
Like Cain and Abel, we are
tender sprouted beings
casted like seeds in the field.
Which ones will survive?
Which ones will die?
Which ones will accept the fate?
And rooted, struggling,
ambling each other,
spacing out for survival.
Fighting to be the first,
drawing strength by its number.
I am weak. But he is brave
He is standing there, sizing up.
Leading power to his arms.
While I am left here, fidgeting
struggling to keep balance
with the world
in all its expectations.
Gradually and bitterly
time has come,
when it became a curse
to have a twin.
Sharing a name.
Sharing a space.
He is no longer-
a brother.
So I strangle him.
Drowned him to his obscurity.
Cut away his connecting cord
succumbing to his last breath.
I let Ryan
soaked and bleed there
to die, with his dear
imaginary life.
To claim solely
my birthright.
Shadow Son
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, tagged alone, amble, amount, animal, anymore, become, begin, bitter, bone, bridge, chain, child, clothing, definition, disowned, distance, doors, down, dreams, exist, face, faceless, fatherless, fend, first, flesh, flight, free, gunpowder, hand, handprints, heartless, hide, himself, image, journey, knock, learn, left, life, lived, lock, mirror, molting, naked, nameless, newborn, old, own, paperbills, past, place, poem, poetry, redemption, reflection, refuse, representation, restrained, shadow, shattered, shimmer, silence, smell, someone, son, strangers, strip, sun, taste, touch, true, tyke, victim, water, way, welcome, wine, wings, words, world, years on July 31, 2013| Leave a Comment »
No amount of words can bridge
the distance of years in silence-
because the sun hides its face
like the way a tyke, fatherless
and left out into the world
to fend for himself. Alone.
Someone has to refuse
to become the victim anymore.
You knock some doors
and it is locked. You are not
welcome there. And a hand
is restrained to touch his own
shadow or an image reflected
a life mirrored in water.
Disowned molting who just
learned its first flight
and give ambled wings
to shattered dreams.
Of the smell of gunpowder.
The handprints on paperbills
and the bitter taste of wine.
None of which represents
your true bone stripped of flesh.
An animal with no redemption-
heartless and chained.
You will refuse to let the past
define you of who you will become.
And you begin the journey
to a place of faceless and nameless
strangers. You will exist
as though you just have lived
and strip down the shadow
as an old clothing. Naked and free
shimmering like a newborn child.
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