journey to its serenity

The moment of death is fixed.

Life is nothing but a journey to its serenity.

The moments in between.

Tears.

Conversations at midnight.

Death is a wide open embrace.

Somersaults of winds that bring the rain at night.

Dreams of summer bring nothing but crazy memories of brown skin against wet sand.

The moment of death is fixed.

Life is nothing but a series of steps up a hill.

Tumbling down sand dunes.

Salt water seeps between cracks and gnaws at the wound.

The moment of death is fixed.

Its muted tones leaves a trail of stillness.

I know what I knew then: Lying here would bring me closer to my maker.

maybe, never

the thought of owning the bruises in your eyes.

the cracks of your broken heart

through the unspoken words

of promises,

of things i should be,

but can’t bear to be

in your life right now,

maybe never.

is simply too much.

these thoughts cuts deep.

guilt riddles me

like a hunger you dare me to feed.

the thought of hearing your voice

in my mind’s eye

before i go to sleep

pleading with me ‘to try one more time’

to be things i can’t be

and would probably never bear to be

in your life right now,

maybe never.

i am not hate.

nor do i respond to holding

broken hearts

in the bosom

of my happiness.

i laugh

because

tears would just be too obvious.

the deal

Nothing beats the discovery of love in tree houses.
With birds chirping all around, loud enough to muffle the sounds
that we shouldn’t be making in the first place.
We imagine ourselves in that other city,
In another world another time where no one knows who we are and
where we’ve been
Avenues lined with palm trees,
We walk hand in hand
Far from a life punctuated with uncertainty.
Nothing beats the feeling of stolen moments
Whispers in the dark, secrets sworn
Happy in the knowledge that we’re each other’s One.
With the prospect of marriage looming happily in our horizons
Mirages of a life we’ve been dreaming of for so long.
Well, that’s how we hope it is going to be.
He never escapes my imagination and I his.
He is presence and I am reality.

magic series: i see rainbows

i see rainbows..

even when it doesn’t rain…

i see rainbows…

streams of warm colours

that tremble when touched.

i hear songs

harmonies of pleasure

that hum along over scattered rhythms.

i see rainbows…

and i remember

a time when i loved you

before you could bring yourself

to stop throwing up

at the sight of your face

reflected in the still waters

around our home…

i see rainbows

streaks of hope

between the ribbons of light.

and i wonder

if my imagination is enough

to carry me

to its ends….

the fly life

right now,
i wish i was a fly on a wall
on the sunny side of this building.
catching a tan;
or whatever it is flies do on walls
i’d sit and listen.
pick up dirty bits;
and hope no one swats me dead.
i’d move with the sun
as the day progresses
the fly life..
aah…

 

poetry: passing through

this morning

for a brief moment, i could’ve sworn

it was the sound of your laughter i heard.
it’s funny how we always assume that we will meet again.
and then years pass by.
next thing i hear, you are gone.
we will never see each other again.
not in this lifetime, at least.
part of me is glad that my only memories of you,
are all of you happy and healthy.
am constantly wondering whether there will come a time when my heart will get used to the thought of loss, of death… whether this jolt of the heartstrings will fade…
we forget the pain and continue living, till the next time…

inspiration: do not be angry with the rain

 

dont be angry with the rain

 

“Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.”-Vladimir Nabokov

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i love summer. i was born during summer. maybe that’s why i love summer. i love the stillness of sunlight. no wind. just warmth. bubbles of light. the sun goes down rather late (Cape Town summer evenings are spectacular).. the sun rises early. prompting and prodding an early start. polka dot dresses. sunny dresses. sandals – my toes relish the liberation. wet beach sand against my skin. cool breeze after the sun goes down.

or maybe what i love the most about summer is the mood. sunny means smiley. smiley means happy. happy translate to general goodness. wholesomeness.

sometimes the heat can be unbearable. and when it seems like the sky can’t take it. it rains. tears of relief.

inspiration for this post: saw the image featured here (and the title of this post) on A Small Press Life, a blog I follow…

i am no survivor…

French-Canadian singer, Madeline Peyroux sings:

“sticks and stonessurvivor

may break my bones,

but tears don’t leave any scars

so i’m alright”

these lyrics almost have me flipping to ‘Survivor’ by Destiny’s Child.

And I can’t help but think that

being a survivor

is truly overrated,
if you ask me(i know you didn’t but still, i’m sharing that anyway).
it’s a vain attempt to show the world our supposed strength.

that i-can-beat-anything, false bravado.
what does it even mean to survive?
who determines the degree of resilience?
heck, i’ve been through somethings
and most of the time, i like to fool myself into believing that i have successfully
survived those trying times.
how do i explain to myself
those moments when i simply cannot get up in the morning?
those moments when i simply do not have the strength to enjoy the sunshine?
does that mean i’m not surviving?

is that a sign of weakness?
when your body is so consumed with this mind-pain that is unbearably huge and seems insurmountable..
so really, what does being a survivor mean?
is there a badge one gets to show the world that i have “survived”?
i may walk with my head held high
and laugh with the world
does that mean i have survived?
i’ve never been a victim of sexual abuse as a child, or physical abuse by a partner or any of those things that get people gasping, speechless, fumbling for words of sympathy.
does this make my plight any less heavier?
well i believe it is completely acceptable to concede defeat along the way.
it’s alright to completely miss the mark some times, at the very least it makes life’s twist and turns seem interesting (laughable,almost)..

 

magic series: inside out…

inside outSo many bodies,

so many hands that have touched.

Clambering to get away.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

All around me. These faces.

They don’t stop gazing. Looking.

Running doesn’t help.

Climbing walls to get away.

They are already in.

Groping.

Reaching. For me.

Inside.

Scrubbing doesn’t help.

Forgetting doesn’t work.

Climbing walls to get away.

Bordering on music.

I stop there.

Afraid to carry on.

Scared this beastly creation

would leave my body.

Exhausted. I toss and turn.

Tortured by visions

of where I should be.

The lies told to the minds which choose to believe them.

Sometimes we think we know what we want.

Then we get into situations that we believe resemble what we want.

As time goes, and we start exploring what we are in, we realise it’s not quite where we want to be.

Maybe we have changed our minds.

Want more.

Want less.

She is lying on your chest now.

Her body supposedly in this moment.

Her mind, however, is fighting demons.

Trying to forget the one before you

She lies there. Hoping your body will transport her, for a while.

She moans and groans. Hoping to drown any thoughts of him.

The other person in this room.

She needed a place to stay tonight.

Too soon to have another body in her bed.

Hasn’t even had a chance to change pillows from the last time.

She lets you touch her preciousness.

She feels nothing. But wants to you carry on regardless.

Tears streaming down her face.

The embarrassment.

He puts his hand on her chin.

Lifts up her face up till their eyes meet.

She believes what is there. 

Deep down in shallow pools of brightness,

As she tries to wash away the sad spread between her legs.

She hides behind her hands.

Her eyes cannot take the brightness.

She opens her mouth to protest.

Nothing comes out. She retreats.

He keeps on coming towards her.

His arms stretched towards her.

The brightness. 

‘Heaviness is shattering. Colour is lost in its folds’, these thoughts don’t leave her. 

She needed somewhere to pass time. 

No need for pity.