H O P I N G (always)

art from google

Hoping …

There are times when I find myself in the abyss of lonesome despair,

when all seems empty, when I feel like a husk of a man, when I no longer care.

When the walls close in, around me and around my heart,

when I feel desolate, always separate, and of nothing ever a sliver of a part.

These moments do pass, as all moments must, and yet the void takes far too much time to fill,

an oil tanker spewing poison, a empty cup of tea impossible to refill.

When emotions are dulled, and the purpose of life is mulled, in a haze of self-pity,

when I am sliced and diced by this festering city.

When nothing seems to matter anymore,

when I fall into the cravasess, shredding me to my very core.

These intensely personal feelings are not easy to share,

yet the solace I find in my scribbles, makes the vacuum a bit easier to bear.

So I scribble away, never seeking sympathy, pity, nor friendly hugs or words of solace, however well-meaning they are all,

for I know I shall have to be the one to pick myself up when on this road I fall.

And as I strain my eyes and in the distance a dim light beckons me,

I crawl towards it, my sight blurry, but knowing it is the flame of hope that I see.

My path ahead is littered with thorns, jagged stones and the seemingly impossible obstacles I have to pass,

yet I continue on, towards the light, on my knees bruised, bleeding, cut raw by stinging sharp glass.

I finally stand up, my legs numb, while I drag my wounded form towards the now bright flame of hope,

reaching out to me as I reach out to it, the arduous journey having been a slippery slow slope.

Finally I reach the soft grasses of all-enveloping peace,

breaking free from the shackles, exhausted, though joyous as from the straightjacket I finally find release.

I stand up, no longer scrambling on my knees, seeking respite in the soothing coolness of nature’s breeze,

to feel whole again, under the canopy of the generous, green trees …

art from google

The Traveller and the Baobab Tree

art from google

The Traveller and the Baobab Tree.

1.

A summer breeze,

drifts down lonesome boulevards,

touching worlds,

torn apart.

The breeze engulfs,

a pristine sky of blue,

while,

scattering murmuring clouds,

that blanket the African heavens,

in swirls and immaculate shrouds.

2.

A passing shower,

of gentle misty rain,

settles,

on freshly scented-earth.

It soothes,

it caresses,

the exhausted thoughts,

of,

a weary traveller,

who sits,

alone,

under a Baobab tree.

3.

The traveller walks alone,

at peace with the fragrant soil,

collecting memories of smiles along the way.

4.

Finally, the wandering soul,

seeks rest,

finding peace at last,

yet knowing its price,

is to let go,

of,

each memory,

and every smile,

that once burned true,

but now,

awaits release,

from the ache of the lingering past …

art from google

   
     _____________

http://www.krugerpark.co.za/africa_baobab.html

art from google

art from google

hope resists …

art from google

hope resists …

pain surrounds, closes in,

encircles raw wounds,

picks at scabs,

freshly coagulated,

while stubborn, impertinent, brash, young, ancient hope,

persists,

resists,

as it has,

and

as it shall …

Picasso dove of peace (from google)