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Posts Tagged ‘find’

What started out as an occasional tryst

with printed words began an insatiable desire

to eavesdrop some imaginary lives on pages.

 

There must be a fine line between the reader

and the writer as to dreams is to eloquence

of the pen. Drifting to lucid spaces, shelf upon shelf

I began to shuffle it between my fingers. Skim-read

passages and clues  I wonder-

where to find you.

 

A character much ideal in my mind.

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Your orbit may find you

in an unending cycle of hiding

and showing up across the sky.

Like a shepherd tethered

to your protection I slip

a chance and probe the map

where you lay all your secrets.

 

The night clouds veil

a silhouette of gloom

while wind chills my heart

and waits until the waning light

travels the length of this room.

Leaving a trace of dewdrops

glistening of little stars

to my skin aching and wanting.

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We try to say something but we can’t.

How it is easy for words to be hidden

beneath our necessity to be nice and proper.

While there is a wall we wanted to break down

to see if there is still more beneath

our obligation to be always kicking at face value.

Anger is foaming in our mouths like lava

simmering in a cauldron ready to explode.

Only to find that we are suppressing

our chances to be understood- for the sake

of keeping a fraternal duty to conform

to the will of overwhelming majority.

But we cannot hold it out any longer, this time

our hands are ready to throw in the punches

in the air and break away. Enough is enough.

Life is too short to stay in the mold

of  other’s expectations and of other’s choices.

Needing only to show our true colors, for a change.

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His muffled voice breaks

the long stretches of silence

while his hand guided

young and untrained hands

practicing calligraphy.

 

Watchful and demanding precision

of copied texts exacting translation.

As he unbuckles the leathery tome

of secrets in a wooden chest.

Tradition, theology and religion.

Diaries, recipes, scientific notations.

 

Inventories, census, receipts.

Readings of narratives and poetry,

astrology, proverbs and magic spells.

The volumes of letters, last wills,

songs and words of blessings.

 

Spending hours and hours sitting

among the piles of pages digging

for clues and answers to mysteries.

The labyrinth of a culture. A treasure.

Each of the fragile pages a wealth

weightier than silver and the gold.

 

Piecing each fragment in a mosaic

mapping an ancient civilization

long forgotten. He believed, it was

here  in his hands lies the fiber, sinew

and muscle of generations of man-

the society is ought to remember.

 

So he became a warrior, obsessed

with the written word wielding

weapons of passion and wisdom.

With his small army of juvenile scholars

continuing an unpopular legacy.

 

Waging the classic battle against time,

earth bugs, heat, rot and decay

slowly finding its way like marauders

pillaging the essence of our humanity

into oblivion and brink of extinction.

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The sanctum smelled of incense and human sweat.

An airless space reverberating whispers of prayer.

She folded a piece of cloth with the holy verse

dipped in animal blood. This is an amulet.

For someone who is afraid of thieves.

 

She knelt across the table ready with her questions

“Do you need a husband? Do you need a wife?”

“Do you need another? Do you need a child?”

“The lines on your palm says you will be rich.”

“The card says you will find your true love.”

 

Then she brought in her candles, started

to light it with a match. She began to read

from a withered book- in its brittle leaves

filled with strange symbols of spells and magic.

Summoning wisdom from the invisible.

 

“Someone wants to harm you, better beware.”

“Keep this stone in a bottle and hide it in your closet.”

She has seen it all- customers come and go

leaving her money for that token of gratitude.

And accepting them as a way of getting by.

 

She keep on caressing the old crystal ball,

ignoring the signs of her grey and thinning hair.

She believed she has power to prevail death.

But  time slowly creeps like a thief in the night

when she can no longer be speaking about

 

the future.

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I wonder

how silent

the trees are

under the canopy

of the rainforest,

waiting for the old wood-

giving way a piece

of heaven for the

young to claim a space.

That’s how we are.

 

The rules reign supreme

in this cycle- a jungle

called life. They are

the ones who had

been there first.

The towering teacher

who holds the key

to wisdom.

 

We are followers.

 

Resilient and bending

gracefully like

an outstretched arms

begging for the time

of our liberation.

Asking permission

to shine and find

our way to embrace

the light.

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Please

don’t make promises

you wouldn’t keep.

As I am trying to feel

 

the traces of the past

deep in the crevices

of my wounded heart.

You never know how

 

words linger

in the precipice of hope

I am searching

the many mornings

 

rising to find, and wait

for the sunlight dying

down by the door.

Hoping still.

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