Archive for December 16, 2017


i d e n t i t y ?








i d e n t i t y  ?




rootless,

scattered beings,


unlike trees,

tentacled roots,

firmly entrenched,

in this earth,


we walk alongside trees,


embroiled in turmoil,

we hate, waging wars,

we discriminate:


tradition,

race,

culture,

patriarchy,

religion,

ideology,


rootless, we flounder,


racing through lives,

rootless, unencumbered,


seeking a home,

eternal exiles, uprooted,


complacent,

skidding, smiling,

killing, proselytising,


inured by dogma,

anaesthetised with learned prejudice,


basking in the illusion, that we, us, i am surefooted,


yet remaining exiles,

all, together,

bound together by gravity, unable to soar into boundless skies,


tearing each other apart,

unafraid, surefooted,


my country right or wrong,

my religion the only one,

my culture the best,

my tradition superior to all the rest,


my book the word of god,


smugly uprooted,


unlike trees,

deeply rooted,

fanning out like banyans, free,


not us,

paying dues, settling scores, doling out fees,


rootless,

floundering,

meandering through bylanes of isolation,


smug, arrogant,

assuredly surefooted,


in the only truth of my culture, my tradition, my race, my people, my religion,


my god,


have we forgotten the trees,


chopped down,

without sorrow,

desecrated,


once firmly rooted,

now flotsam, jetsam,


like i, you, him, her, us and them,


uprooted, snuffed out,


dragging along dead wood,


pompously preaching the rootedness,


of culture,

of tradition,

of race and of religion,


while we remain,


exiles all, blasé and smugly surefooted,


sowing division,

waving flags,

sermonising,


my country right or wrong,


ignoring the lesson of the trees,


of what it really means to be firmly rooted,


posturing instead, ideological fantasies, religious fancies:


i am right,


and thusly so,


you are all very wrong … 




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deciphering silence …





you and i


shielded by silence

barred from ourselves

insured against feelings


exiled hearts

building ramparts


a berlin wall

that may fall


so my friend

lay your head

upon my chest


and let my fingers

run through your hair


lulling you gently

to rest


life is far too short anyway

to squander even a day


so rest

my friend


rest


and lay your head

upon my chest …










the road








the road …






how far does this road go, this path of life, these alleyways, these avenues woven as days, weeks, months and years crumble,


leaving us, at times upright, at times staggering as we waywardly stumble.




where does this road lead to, scrambling over boulders of pained time, helplessly flailing across the unknown distance still to be tread,


looking ahead, with no map, no sense of hope nor dread, yet oblivious to the many needles of passageways yet to be thread.




when does this journey of splintered hearts and fractured souls end, with us healing many times over, scrambling around at times in the dark, knowing not what lies beyond the next bend.




whom do we choose to venture along these boulevards, hand in hand, who are the fortunate ones who have another to hold, to gaze at sunsets, as together they lovingly stand.




why do i feel stranded, as if washed up on a desolate beach, walking amongst the throng, yet with that deeper connection always just out of reach.




why do i lose myself in the cacophonous crowd, my words dissipating in the wind, my verses becoming my only shroud.




why do i walk away when joy and peace and love is within my grasp, when our fingers are entwined, when onto hope we firmly clasp.




these questions billow through the misty haze of moments that slip away, in-between honeydew kisses,  smouldering in the cauldron of desire, fleeting smiles turned to ashes by the indiscriminate fire.




these questions jabbing at the core, immersed in rivulets of tears, seeking answers about this entire parade, is it all real, or is it merely a meaningless charade.




the questions come thick and fast, assaulting the senses as one tries to make sense, of love lost, of wounds still raw, of pain, of sorrow, and of seemingly unending strife.




the answer appears, blanketing the sun, cloaking the moon, an answer so simple, yet with profundity rife.




the answer:



this is life …





















i love her …




1.




she found me, as torrents raged around me,


she found me, when my wings were shattered,


she found me, when i was desolately crawling,


she found me, in the depths of despair,


she found me, trapped in the quagmire,


she found me.




2.




she reached down, her hand extended,


she pulled me out of, the lair of emptiness,


she helped me stand, after my legs had been battered,


she fed me, nourishing my soul,


she led me, into pastures green and alive,


she held me, in the cocoon of her embrace.




3.




i was not worthy, of her delicate touch,


i was not worthy, lying in a discarded alleyway,


i was not worthy, of her healing embrace,


i was not worthy, of her tender love,


i was not worthy then, i am not worthy now,


i had nothing, and still have nothing to give,


still, she loved me, and loves me still …








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