We have cried together, seeing
the pages of our lives torn into pieces.
And how we knitted to rebuild it,
and washed them like dirty linens
in the laundry. Just like a potter
we build and sculpt in us
a new mold of the world
we never knew existed.
We exchanged our boxes
of secrets and a set of keys.
We swore by the heart. And
made a vow that we would keep
them locked and tightly sealed.
That we would be keeping each
other’s stories, only to ourselves
and no one else. And for the longest
possible time, it has come to a point,
a reckoning. The seal of promise
had been broken.
Unlocking my box and spilling
the foam of words into little teardrops-
they fall like brimstones and fire
from the night sky, now. And the moon
must have hidden its face turning
into red, in anger and in shame. Bleeding
in the agony of a broken promise.
An impending death to a friendship.
Still, I am keeping my silence, thinking deeply
if it is worth to hide your keys in my pocket?
If keeping your box tightly sealed, or at once,
let them out in the open, will exact revenge?
While my flesh quivered at the thought
of why would you dare crossing the line,
betraying my trust. While my bones splintered
at the thought that I would dearly want you
squirm in your own bloodbath, redeeming self.
But I decided not to.
Letting the ghost of your betrayal haunt you down
into your grave. A tormented soul, wandering
the dark halls searching for some kind of atonement.
Asking forgiveness.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
Finding The Light
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Nature, Poetry, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, Travel, tagged arm, ask, beg, bend, canopy, claim, commentary, cycle, embrace, find, first, follower, give, grace, heaven, hold, how, jungle, key, liberation, life, light, old, One, outstretch, permission, piece, poem, poetry, rainforest, reign, religion, resilient, rule, shine, silent, space, supreme, teacher, time, tower, tree, wait, way, we, wisdom, wonder, wood, young on August 20, 2010| 18 Comments »
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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