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Posts Tagged ‘gulf’

Someone had it written clear-

that one should not just keep pacing

on this earth, like a  somnambulist do.

Instead, he should lay beside the grass.

Ears close to the ground hearing

faint sounds and whispers coming

from the earth’s bosom.

 

Hearing how the rhythmic breath

of stillborn seeds of coniferous trees

waiting to break out of its shell,

awakening to the hymn of the spring.

 

Hearing how aquifers running deep

into crevices, into rivers, carving

canyons, gorges, fjords to the open seas.

Sailing away, riding with the wind.

 

Hearing the tides keep pushing,

and pulling in. Or the breaking waves

into the cliffs. Scouring the shoreline

of an island down to the ocean floor.

 

Hearing how the mountains gliding

its terrestrial skin past each other.

Like a potter reshaping and remolding

the land into a new continent.

 

Hearing how it grumbles beneath,

venting out ash plumes and lava streams.

A force roused from deep slumber

churning mood swings in its womb.

 

Someone had it written clear-

that one should not just keep pacing

on this earth, like a  somnambulist do.

 

We should hear the gathering storms

of the impending avalanche. Iceberg splitting.

The glacier receding.  Oil gushes, spilling

over the gulf. Helpless cacophony of wildlife

endangered. Landslides and the levees

breached by hurricane. Rainforest on fire.

Desert sands advancing. Clods of soil

drying up. Locusts swarming over fields.

Ground crumbling into sinkholes.

 

We should hear how restless it gets

day after day, when  the clock is ticking out.

Faint sounds becoming loud voices

sending distress call to reckon with,

summoning mankind to listen. The earth

finally eclipsing to its perilous journey.

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On the passages, it says

of a prison, an exile. In Babylon

where walls and ceilings are gone.

Watching the blue sky

turn into darkness, blotted out

by billows of smoke and fire

over ruins of crushed bricks

and pulverized sandstones.

 

Three hundred and sixty five days.

And life now are moving images

of evacuees and troops,

of tanks and warplanes

from a distance. Boundaries

of earth mounds and trenches.

Through my camp’s window

is a restive realm to which I stand

invaded by bombs and gunfire.

 

I daydream of home-

while placidly inside,

a vision of seed emerging,

growing into a tree.

Whose blossoms

quite imaginary

at the old hanging gardens,

the fruits at its season

drops by the waters

carried  away into streams.

And rivers, down into

the Persian Gulf.

 

Freedom and peace-

these wandering thoughts

and the desert winds

whispering to my soul. As restless

as the river currents shifting

from Tigris to Euphrates.

 

Like Nebuchadnezzar- whose ancient cares

flocking like grebes by the floodwaters

inundating history. The centuries old

slipping  away a kingdom whose

former glory will never be restored.

I have changed. 

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That day,

you made  the sky heavy-

falling tears like rain.

When a down-trodden

waded through a flood

of despair, and I am

walking away in shame-

as if the world

crumbled, suddenly

turned pale to gray.

 

My heart

I  offered in a plate-

full of strawberries

its first fruits.

But your words-

that rejection

knifed and sliced

into bleeding pools.

Until I am strained.

 

That day,

my eyes were opened

of reality here-

I am standing

this gulf

between us-

You and me.

No way

I cannot swim.

Nothing but to see you

faintly disappearing

while attempting

building

a bridge

joining you.

 

I have tried

finding a boat to ride.

Taking me there-

where you are,

but, all was a crowd

I can’t get through.

Trying-

finding another

path to cross,

but lost.

Until I forgot about-

You.

 

That day,

I made my peace

And I found myself

kneeling beside

a savior-

that wounded  feet.

This sweet sorrow

is nothing more

than a heartbeat

now belongs to yesterday.

And here I am

Looking-

the other way.

as He carry me

through another day.

 

Down at the wayside

perhaps, by chance.

I cannot cross

the other side. Maybe

you won’t let me cross

this great divide. And

losing what I think

is all I have.

This believing…

This hoping…

I stopped.

Since then, I know-

you’ll not meet me

there- a space

that would not be.

 

That day, I instead

I met the One

In a place, even I,

would not suspect.

Good thing is,

I began to see

how blessed,

when someone could

and would love me-

for what I am.

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