Posted in Books, Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Society, tagged absorption, affection, against, alone, another, away, been, believe, belong, beside, better, big, blank, blue, book, boys, brash, brothers, bruise, car, children, condition, continue, corner, crash, crazy, dad, desperate, distant, distil, doubt, draw, drive, extend, father, fatherless, found, frank, friends, genuine, girls, give, good, hand, happy, headstrong, heart, heaven, home, honest, house, imagine, ink, intrusion, isolation, laughter, left, lessons, life, listen, lost, love, lucky, man, matter, mind, mockery, more, mothers, myself, name, need, okay, One, otherwise, pain, paper, pauper, pen, people, pick, playmate, poem, poetry, point, proud, pure, reading, rejection, restrain, rich, say, scorn, scribble, seek, should, shoulder, sisters, sitting, sky, smile, somehow, son, space, start, story, sun, sure, taking, talk, taunt, teach, thinking, thoughts, through, tree, truth, turn, understanding, war, world, wound, writing on March 23, 2012|
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She told me that my father was another man,
well I shrugged my shoulder and say “it’s okay”.
But she didn’t know that I am writing my pain away.
I came to a point of thinking about those fatherless
children who lost theirs in wars, in car crashes…
I am still lucky, and better-off, I got one
whom I can call Dad, but he would rather not.
He told me I am not his son, and he would not talk
nor teach me how to drive cars. I sat down on a corner
and started scribbling my pain away. Maybe I can draw…
And draw myself a car, a house, a tree, the blue sky,
and people smiling under the sun. Until I came to a point
of thinking that I could imagine a world, my happy world.
I could draw as many cars as I would like, and as many fathers
who could teach me how to drive and see how proud I am.
But playmates taunted me it is not all true. They laugh.
They scorn. They tell me how crazy I am to believe.
I just left, not minding, distant and alone. “It’s okay”.
I will just write my pain away. I write good stories
about friends who sit beside you and listen to you.
They, who will never doubt how good the story was.
But some books I read say otherwise. There were lessons
which say do this and do that. I believed it was. That
I should never be a pauper begging for affection.
That I should be headstrong. That I should be honest.
And genuine. That good people will go to heaven. I did
believe in truth and desperately seeking it all my life.
But I was mocked and I stand bruised and wounded.
They say I am too much. They say I am brash.
They say I am too frank. They say I intrude.
They call me names. It’s like big boys and big girls
saying that I should go away. They don’t need me.
And then again, I isolate and pick a pen, scribbling…
And I am writing my pain away. And this blank space
is sure and will not reject me like most people did.
No matter how fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters,
friends and even if the world will turn against me
and continue to restrain their hand in extending love.
I would teach myself loving without taking, understanding
that my heart is rich and I have much more to give.
I could belong like my ink being absorbed by the paper,
without condition. Just pure distill of my thoughts.
I could somehow say that I found a home to myself
after all. With the pain I’ve been through, I am
still here writing my pain away. I am not alone.
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The Reading
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, Travel, tagged aftershock, agony, alarm, anguish, ash, avalanche, away, bar, bell, breath, brothers, building, cacophony, candle, cards, carnage, chase, children, concrete, cry, day, deck, distant, down, dust, earthquake, elevator, engraved, erosion, explosion, extinguish, extraordinary, fall, fate, father, fireball, first, floor, forgotten, foundation, fragile, frozen, fuel, glass, gradual, grief, ground, hallway, hearing, hearts, helpless, horror, husbands, ignite, impact, innocent, jet, lamentation, listen, little, mad, mangle, memory, men, mess, mid-air, missing, mother, name, pain, panic, people, poem, poetry, polish, powder, prayer, reading, remembrance, rip, roar, rock, rubble, rush, scramble, scream, second, shock, sigh, silence, siren, sisters, skeleton, skin, slab, slither, slow, sound, splash, staircase, stampede, steel, stone, stumble, suspension, symphony, tangle, tear, time, toll, topple, trap, tremble, trickle, twist, undiminished, unison, unlatch, water, weakening, whispers, wisp, wives, women, world, zero on January 25, 2012| 4 Comments »
I hear them screaming through
the sound of falling and splashing
and stumbling down staircases.
Of mangled steel twisting glass
and concrete skins ripping away
from the building’s skeleton.
I hear the slithery rush of jet fuel
scrambling down chases and elevators
at first and second impact, the aftershock.
Igniting fireballs through the hallway.
Explosions rocked the foundations
trembling in little earthquakes.
I hear the mad stampede roar.
I hear the panic bars unlatch.
Then the cacophony of sirens,
the tolling of alarm bells,
the symphony of shock,
the avalanche of horror,
the carnage of the missing,
and the agony of the trapped.
I hear them- peoples of the world,
helpless among the tangled mess
of floor slabs toppled like a deck of cards.
The gradual weakening of their hearts,
the whispers in pain, the unison in prayer.
The slow fragile breaths silently eroding
and extinguished like wisps from a candle.
I hear the distant cries of children
who lost their fathers and mothers.
The anguish of fathers and mothers
losing their children in the rubbles.
The lamentations of men and women
losing their wives, their husbands,
their brothers and their sisters.
I hear them all within the sound of the water
trickling down over the polished slabs of stones.
I hear them while I listen in the reading,
of engraved names whose innocent fates
were like the powdery dusts in mid-air
frozen, suspended, undiminished in time.
I hear the grieving sighs. The silent tears.
The ashes of remembrance, the memory.
The extraordinary day when the world
will never forget the ground zero.
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