Waking
Reaching out to wake you,
gently shake you
from subterranean depth.
Somewhere distant you fling
sweat damp limbs,
twisted in tying sheets.
Restless head thrown hard back,
on bunched,
punched pillow.
Did I try too hard, demand too little,
expect too much?
So much I didn’t know.
I only wanted to give you
an extraordinary life.
Denmark 2015
This week’s poem, a message for all those walkers and joggers who fill their ears with music instead of listening to the morning.
Just listen
Turn it off and hear birds sing,
bat wings cling
wrap around
sounds of morning.
Beyond dewy hedge life rattling past
on bicycle wheels,
floating
slices of conversation.
Whispering of leaves,
breezed through foliage
drifting under
crunching steps.
Shy birds chirp
in shifting shadows.
Crows arguing,
over some intriguing thing.
.
Dhaka 2015
.
Knowing myself,
Growing myself,
From inside, in.
Dark golden core,
Discover, explore,
From inside, in.
Dhaka 2015
This week’s poem inspired by memories of a time that, like all times, has disappeared – and a place, that disappeared along with the truth that sustained it for a while.
At the time
.
Seemed correct at the time,
important, organically true.
Unquestionable fantasy facts
on sharp metallic threats.
Seemed wisest to believe
self-righteous statements.
Anchor our importance,
clarify our sanctified position.
A place,
a time,
a truth
that disappeared.
Remember, we were young
and mostly innocent.
The world was scary –
they said they’d keep us safe.
Terror tales that might be true.
Power seemed unshakable,
unbreakable authority,
lies purest white.
“Follow our rules, you’ll be fine.”
Should have laughed scorn in stern faces,
questioned their unraveling logic.
Instead, before we fled,
we feebly flailing, clinging on
to sinking systems.
A place,
a time,
a truth
that disappeared.
.
Dhaka 2015
.
Dreads shadowy steps
down dark tunnels.
Light ahead never draws nearer.
Footsteps echo,
pale face in the mirror.
Dhaka 2014
This week’s poem inspired by The Nordic Embassies in Dhaka’s Women’s Day celebration which included wonderful and very moving dance displays.
Beautiful in blue
Tall man in blue sari,
strong muscled arms,
long lovely lashes,
sparkling
on stage.
Whirling, twisting,
dancing his soul out.
Leaping his longing,
spinning his passion,
writhing his suffering.
Wringing our tears
tickling our fears.
Accepted,
adored,
showered in applause –
as long
as the music goes on.
Dhaka 2015