the sun still rises
the moon also but shyly
following cycles
as certain as my feelings
for you though you notice not
Feeling dead
Nowhere to turn
Dead beat ex
I'm stuck
No way of freeing myself
Finances so intertwined
Like a tumour
Attached to something vital
"We can't operate I'm afraid.
Too risky"
How did I let this happen?
So insidious
So slow
A parasite. Unseen, leaching, infecting, invading, taking, taking, taking.
Eventually, clarity. The alternative.
So often dismissed now better than the present.
But I must pay for my blindness.
I must pay the price for hope.
I cannot be set free
Like a prison sentence.
And, by the way,
Don't bother looking up
Don't pray or ask for divine help.
Help,
If there is any,
Is ground level.
Friends, family, gestures, kind words, hugs, a sympathetic emoji in a motivational text.
You've got this
You are strong
I believe in you.
No choice. Hold tight, wait for better days.
Nothing is permanent.
Lean into the love and the sun will shine again some day.
This season seems to last forever.
Seems spring will never reappear.
Seems everyone is just waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
All I recall is nasty weather
It is so hard to persevere.
All I have done is sit here waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
It seems I’ve lost my sense of wonder
Trying to overcome my fear
I don’t want to run, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
Despair is trying to pull me under.
I cannot shake my spirit clear.
Spring just hasn’t sprung, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
Is dawn on its way? Will I ever see the day?
Or is darkness all that I will ever see?
Looking for some light in this never-ending night.
Is this how it’s always going to be?
This season cannot last forever…
Soon spring will have to reappear.
Just like everyone, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
I am so tired of nasty weather
Not much to do but persevere.
It’s not much fun sitting, waiting for the sun
When it’s not here…
It was a gorgeous day for shenanigans, so the butterfly flew up high
She wanted to butter up the sun, and she knew how to really fly.
Giving the sun compliments, was one of her favorite things to do.
It kept the sun on her lilies and roses and made her feel good too.
Not everything is good and true,
But there is something good and true
In everything.
And truth is like the sun,
Or that annoying ringing in the ears,
You can shut it out,
But it doesn't go away.
People often stumble over the truth,
Pick themselves up and go on about their business
As if nothing had happened.
Our thoughts, like the sea with its white pebbles,
painted by its foam.
The waves come little by little, to halt them.
There, I see Greece.
Beneath the clouds that hide the sun,
its furrows moving back and forth like visitors.
They were forgotten on a pale islet at the horizon, where the gaze can reach.
In a small glass of red wine and a slice of bread,
behind the cornfields.
There, I see Greece.
In my grandparents’ house I left my memories in the yard,
in the scent of Sunday lunch.
oh
Lord
our
black
skin
is
a
blessing
from
God
within
only
because
we
are
the
ancient
children
of
the
sun
and
God
said
that
is
good
The city held its hand out to you and you felt like you’d become.
The flashing lights, drinking and dancing nights is where your adulthood had begun.
The wayward walk and drunken fights where no logic had ever won.
Pride or is it sorrow now fills your mind, to see what you’ve become.
The years fly by and your reflection starts to cry as you realise age has won.
You still feel young and ache for the careless, never ending fun of those nights you had in the sun.
Now creaks and pains try their hardest to remain as you try to remember lost loves in days now gone. You realise when your mind tries to rationalise how old you have become.
Where once stood so proud your youth and glory so strong and loud now looks back at you in mumbled confusion for why that strength and confidence cut and run.
S h e 's
j u s t
a bright light.
Beaming down to the
Earth's face.
I'll walk with each dawn.
There lies a land behind the smoke,
Where silence screams and hearts are broke
Where lullabies drown in bombs and drones
And cradles turn to shattered stones
Babies cry with lips so dry
No blood, no milk, no tear left to cry
No schoolbell rings, no hospital stands,
Just bones and ruins buried in the sand
They queue for crumbs and bleed for rice
A bottle of water, the price of life
Each has lost __ be it a child or spouse
a parent, a sibling or a shattered house
Then phosphorus rains on wrecked-out souls
To burn their skin to elevate their pains
And we the modern civilized race
Watch stage 5 famine take its place
What further war-crimes must I define
Palestine bleeds while the world stays blind
to relive this place
the perfection of summer
absolute blue skies
crickets cheering bel cantos
spark birds plugging for lawn grubs
remain in warm suns
obedient girasols
leave darkness behind
She is summoned for a cup of coffee
before the eyes can open.
The house breathes her in like incense
sweet when needed, choking when not.
The woman she serves, speaks of justice, of rising tides
but never sees the maid’s drowning eyes.
Carried in her little apron:
crumbs from a breakfast she didn’t taste,
a broken brooch she didn’t break,
a key she’s not allowed to use,
a list of orders inked by masters
and the weight of every accusation
that arrived before the evidence.
She knows all the corners of mansions,
absorbs the moods of households.
But is gifted with hand- me downs
and a pair of shoes worn thin by ambition.
And when she dares to rest, they call it an excuse.
A headache becomes defiance.
A funeral becomes fiction.
Before the sun sets,
she wipes all the demands.
I sit in the sun like a satisfied fat cat
dogs hide under the slide with a ball and a bat
they have fur coats, my husband says in their defense
we are all sleeping heartily, none of us tense
As I rise,
The moon falls
The wind settles
The lake follows
The sand shimmers
The earth softens
The stars dampen and
The buildings brighten,
A tree houses
A bird swooshes
A flower opens
A fish swims
A weed dances
A squirrel eats and
A duck dips,
A man hurries to work
A woman runs on the boardwalk
A grandfather grabs the paper
A boy hides from me
A girl giggles on the swings
A bell ushers kids away and\
A bike lane grows heavy,
This place,
So full with life
Racks the minutes, hours, days, years,
Peacefully, quietly, beautifully--
Existing with incredible happenings;
Splendors and revelations,
Dark funerals and ‘happy birthdays’,
Joyous jubilations and lonely mornings,
Yellow hellos and red goodbyes,
Tired people and busy minds.
Perpetual, like that grandfather clock in the apartment with the too-thin walls;
As unchanging as the oak tree outside of the tiny bungalow on the corner street by the beach.
And as I set and rise everyday to do the same 24-hour shift,
I do not complain about the similar views, or the boring minutes,
I do not crave the hours in darkness,
I accept the unthanked labor—
I watch.
I listen.
I exist.
Have always known my limitations
it's a fact that can't be missed
I'll always go out on a limb
and you're an attraction I can't resist
am I being reckless to gamble on such a crazy game
am I overconfident and like a moth to a flame
will I melt my wings
these and a thousand other things
will I crash and burn will I ever learn
always had my uncertainties
if I speak my mind to you
there's a danger in the air
you'll take and break my poor heart in two
am I flying too close
when the day is done
if I say, "I'm in love with you,"
am I flying too close to the sun?
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