fall into the arms of
brusque blue clouds
with tears of relief
washing out the sky leaving her face
mottled yet rejoicing
let me live my life as a leaf.
let me lift and leave as they do.
they beg not to let go of limb…
but they go nevertheless, their greeness outgrown.
their brightness only crumbling to rustling brown bits
as i watch whether trampler will rake them back to me…
they do not stay as i do.
i alone cannot bear for each of them to go.
leaving me so bare and barren once more.
let eternal winter slay me through once.
lashes no more, no one hears my white muffled cries.
crack me in two and be done with your icy touch.
let not Spring come again with her adornments,
they mean nothing to me no more.
Sultry Summer with her,
blush of petit sweet offerings.
my bitterness ever taints them…
carressing eyes yet shriveling tongues.
etch not your beloveds upon me…
i promise your parting,
under my very boughs.
i see too much…
too sharply, strongly
too vividly, viciously
i miss the light…
not chemical, not electrical
not that cruel piercing imperfection revealing lit object.
why not some dimness…?
some dark to wrap around softly but not at all lessen…
some thing hidden…
some thing saved…
some thing for one to know and one to find out…
let the light be created,
let it slowly fade the light-maker
let it lick, slide, drip, drop, fall, fly and burn…
let it leave a trace as all living things do…
let it spark, grow, flame, flicker, falter…
let it live and as all, let it leave.
-let’s go look.
-ohh it’s a baby bird.
-see how it’s big purple veins, closed eyes, sticky skin, no feathers yet.
-see how it’s bones stick out, its neck is bent, it must have fallen
-you know you could…
-come on. it’s dead.
-it’s a secret.
-you’re saving it.
-it’s so small. it won’t matter.
-come on i’d do it….come on just hurry.
-i won’t be your friend!
-alright alright i’ll do it.
-fine then let’s just go!
let me reach out
and touch upon a word…
a word that lets you share
that which i feel
and fail to tell
how it scars the soul
every shudder trembles
as that memorable wound is touched upon
why should you not know how it feels?
to hear the morning dew whisper
to feel the pulse of loving words
to see the heavenly sound of melodies
bitter tears shared have a sweetness of their own…
and however love may be praised it too grows jealous
of not being felt the same by all.
A Selection of the background score to the movie “Azaghi” by Ilayaraja
painting the sky with your sighs
they stream along like clouds
streak the blue with your
saddened dark greys
and watch them
that heavy handed caress
the earth’s vengeful finesse.
the oblivion i embrace
majestic and all consuming
magnificent when beheld
magnanimous with its tremendous power…
let me have
that thirst to survive
that willful instinctive frenzy
that one last
valiant attempt to breathe…
and wanting to breathe.
the bit by bit
the rented holes
you no way
nearer to its
yawning ever wider
but only gnaws and nibbles away…
remaining above all else: