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Posts Tagged ‘rich’

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 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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