It won't be the rain that didn't stop
Nor the floods that threatened our safety.
It won't be the fires that were too close to home
Nor the heat that made the air thick.
It won’t be the many signs we ignored
While working in our air-conditioned offices,
To make the rusty machine spit soot.
It won’t be the families forced to leave their homes.
The end will come with our kids;
Deprived and uncertain.
Their future robbed and ours to dust.
I wanted to make a list of all the things
That made me feel warm and content.
- A drink that goes down smooth
- Footsteps on boardwalks
- Hot cup of tea after a big breakfast
- The quiet of a reading nook
- Being remembered by distant friends
- A deep breath amongst trees
This list sounds like poetry to me,
And that too fills me with warmth.
Change is difficult,
As we are mired by our burdens.
Holding on to a permanence and comfort,
In a world that does not care.
We don't need much to simply be;
Food, shelter, warmth, touch,
And things that could move our hearts.
Yet these days they are all replaceable / consumable.
Except, for a few treasured keepsakes.
That anchor us to our moments of connection.
Though even they fade—
As we too are consumables.
Listen till your ears bleed
Till your heart breaks
And you can't bear to listen no more.
Then keep listening.
Till you live how they live
And their pain is your pain.
You can speak.
I'm hanging off a ledge
Knuckles locked in fear
And I don't dare look below.
But the cliff isn't that high.
In fact if I fell
Barely a moment would pass
And I'd feel the warm earth under my feet.
I know all this,
Yet I can't let go.
Are false, sans time.
Life over time becomes death,
Love becomes loss,
And perhaps also hate.
Tragedy to comedy.
Light to darkness.
Misery unto strength.
Everything can become nothing,
Give it time.
So moved by sensations & textures
That yearn to be understood.
My being consumed by patterns.
Tapping into the pulse of the universe,
Connected to the history of life
And to the artist.
Who can feel so intensely.
When I heard the news
That you were gone
I didn’t think much of it.
You’re not where I am,
You’re not where you used to be.
Now that I am back
Where you’ve been.
I feel your absence,
I feel your presence.
And it hurts so damn much.
And I miss you.
A brush of the shoulder,
Then a ‘hello’
Instead of a 'sorry’.
These sparse moments of connection,
Make me content.