Archive for September 12, 2016


repost: the wind carries his name

The Wind carries his Name.


They shot him down,

to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Even as the bullets tore through him,
the wind carried his name.

Far across the weary fields,
high above the stubborn peaks,
over the blood soaked streams,
the wind carried his name.

They shot him down,
to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Yet the wind carries his name,
to you and to me,
to them and to us.

They shot him down,
but his name resounds,
as it floats on the breeze.

And,

still they try to shoot him down,
to silence us all, 
to stifle an ideal.

But the wind cannot be stilled,
and the wind carries his name:


“Che”.



( For Ernesto Guevara de la Serna )

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​for Victor Jara …

his song rose,

above the stadium of death,
his voice rose,

with each tortured breath,
they broke his hands, you see,

the fascists,
tearing his guitar apart,

this man who sang of love,

and of solidarity,

and of peace,
they broke his hands into pieces,
to still the raging strumming,

the strumming that is heard today,
and will be heard tomorrow,
they broke his hands, you see,

pinochet and his thugs,

yet,

yet,
his song still rose,

high above the shanties,
across the plains,

infused in the soil of Chile,
his song rose,

his song rises still,
his song always will …

​’tis been an eternity,

since i met you,
your eyes,

                 into whose deep

                 depths,

                 cascading within,
                 i would gladly

                 drown,
plummeting into,

all of you,
within you,

your thoughts,
your dreams,
your

waking

fantasies,

oh i would indeed,

if these were not mere scribbles,

                 empty, hollow,
bereft of hope,

entombed in sorrow … … …

​free as the wind …




your strength, your resolve,

your resilience, your warmth,


real, tangible, fiery,


sparks afloat in the wind,

unshackled, free,


to soar the boundless skies,


and i,


i am fortunate,

to have shared a moment or two,


and i am lost, blinded,

if it weren’t for you,


a gentleness sublime,

shared,


in stolen moments,




when,

my unseeing gaze meets your deep, inviting eyes …

​something …

in my life, I’ve trudged down cobblestone pathways,

walked on broken glass,
shed tears, had my  share of dreams broken,

have had my quota of fears,
now the years have slipped away,

and a decade ago seems like yesterday,
but the moment I saw you,
something, something,

made me pause,
it was you. it is you,

and maybe, it will always be,
only you ….

​our fingers,

entwined,

walking away,
from the din of the day,

embracing the solitude of night,
with you in my arms,

dreams ablaze,

soaring into effervescent flight,
touching you, feeling you,

tasting you, consumed,

raging desire,
thrashed against the cliffs,

of pitiless fate,
in-between the engulfing waves,

gulping for a breathful of you,
all of you,

irresistibly true … …

?

​?
splintered wings,

kicking dust,

seeking release,
bound, humans,

bereft of feeling,
while,
caged souls,

bereft of hope,
wills strangled,

spirits mangled,
wane,

wither,
away …
… all for a few laughs,
perhaps,

a couple of giggles,
some people amused,
fleeting,
this interest,

novelty,
but for the caged ones,

whose open skies lie broken, tattered,
caged souls,

hearts,
wills,

resolve,
now brittle,
having felt the stab,
of dreams dashed,

hopes shattered.

​they do not see me at all,
as I walk through these desecrated avenues,
of soul-deadening frenzy,
I see them all rushing past me,
and no matter how hard I try to holler and to call,
they do not see me at all.

it seems at times, that invisible am I,
for when I reach out, and shriek out, and when on my knees I crawl,
they rush past me,
for they do not see me at all.

I have tried to raise their ire, I have taunted and goaded them, till exhausted and fatigued, to the cold damp ground I fall,
still they rush past me,
for they do not see me at all.

I stand mutely then and wave my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl,
and yet they rush past me,
for they do not see me at all.

they rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back,
and then trampling over my fallen form, they look past my limp crumpled shadow, as they whine on in their monotonous drawl,
for they do not see me at all.

and when at last I see them look my way, and as a flicker of recognition crosses their faces,
I wish to crawl back into my nothingness,
where they cannot see me at all … … …

​woven webs … …

time to leave the obfuscation,

euphemisms,

platitudes,
time to shed the detritus of who we once were,

why we once never could be,
strewn amidst the thorns,

jabbing through the turbulent sea,
each wave,
breaking,

crashing,
threaded strings,

foamy universes within foam,
dashing the jagged cliffs,
steep,

daunting,

impregnable,

conceited,
arrogance of invincibility,
the choice of loss,
tracer bullets pockmarking the diseased sky,
splintering egos,

crushing ideals,

held aloft sacrosanct,

wringing ideology,

mere attempts,

feeble at least,
the grandiose fiction of an all en-compassing “explanation of it all”
the unscaleable wall,
where dreams collide,

headlong into concrete apartheid,
headstrong,

belief,

unreason,

faith,
trust,

honesty, love,
lie fractured,

scattered bones strewn here,

there,
and some places foreboding yet alive,

in between,
the transparency of justice,

or,
the prism of competing beliefs,
which leaves this soul, cut,
ripped apart,

torn,

at the seams,
having set sail on the river of hopes,
having soared the blue expanse,

in free flight,
a torch, always,
always, burning, shining bright,
a beacon in the desolate night,
aloft at last,
winged chariots of unfinished dreams … …

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