Category: Non classé

I don’t know what to tell you, so I don’t call.
I don’t know where I stand with you, so I keep off.
I seem aloof and distant, but I am not.
My heart is burning with the urge to move closer to you.
Yet, I dare not come close, lest you reject me again.

Enjoy the moment.
Delight in the simple things in my life.
It seems so vague and overwhelming.
How can I do this, in the present circumstances?
Yet, if I don’t change my state of mind, can I avoid crashing and burning?
I am worried and stressed.
Anxiety has robbed me of my peace of mind.
I feel drained, and I am on the verge of shutting down.
My way of escape is to inhabit the moment.
I will enjoy the moment.
One day, one hour, one minute, one second, one step, one breath at a time.
It is all I am capable of doing.
I guess it is ok, for I am moving in the right direction.
It is all I know to do.

I hope you are doing well.
I am well, for now.
I hope our state of being well will outlast this pandemic.

But if you or your loved ones have been affected, I still wish you well.
I acknowledge your fears and pain.
I commiserate and grieve with you.

I wish you a better now and tomorrow; Even though things seem so bleak at the moment.
I wish you peace and strength to come out of this.
You are not alone.

I cried, but no tear fell.
I wept, yet it remained a barren land.
No dew drops formed on my eyelids.
No fountain flowed down my cheeks.

A heavy veil blurred my vision.
A dark storm cloud filled my sight.
My throat battled to keep its composure.
My voice perturbed, become husky and tremulous.

Keening, I grabbed my chest, crumbling to my knees.
I let all the waves of sorrow wash over me.
Each rising tide threatened to submerge me.
They crashed upon the rock of my guarded heart.

I wailed.
Now, I bawl no more.
Spent, I am!
I am a discarded corncob emptied of its kernels of hope.

A worn-out smile stretched and unfolded itself upon her face.

She sighed a deep, soulful sound that echoed the wretchedness of her bleeding heart.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, counting the cobwebs to keep her mind occupied.

The cracks on the ceiling smirked at her tauntingly.

They savagely reminded her that her life lay broken at her feet.

It was a reality she couldn’t flee, no matter how hard she tried.

She exhaled, her soul weary.

Her eyes and heart full to the brim. 

 

Standing is an issue.

Sitting for too long isn’t an option.

Lying down too often is not agreeable.

Oh, lovely bones, what are you up to today?

Why do you groan and creak all day long?

You make me long for a lengthy quiet slumber.

I yearn for deep sleep that will make me numb.

I need to rest from this load that makes me lumber.

Why did you make me your target?

Rheumatism, you tear  my abode asunder.

I consent to your demands, so please release me and let me be.

The future of my articulation is in danger if you continue to  plunder.

 

 

Stop!

Slow down.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Let your body and soul relax and unwind.

Enjoy each breath.

For life is a gift.

 

 

Pacify you.

Placate them.

Propitiate who?

Please, me!

 

 

I cried.

I felt helpless.

The last sense of security I had withered and dried.

It fell off and evaporated in the scorching heat of need and lack.

I looked on defeated as the last Euros I had stashed away slipped off my hand.

I tried to hold on to them to no avail.

Bills were bills, and they waited for no one.

Not even me.

 

 

There are things one cannot rush.

Don’t precipitate them.

If you do, they will not reach their destination.

They will get lost along the way.

 

 

I am full yet overflowing with emptiness.

I am whole, yet my emotions are a patchwork of splintered, broken dreams.

I am in good company, yet loneliness throttles me with its icy mantle.

I tread carefully.

I touch gingerly.

I edge forward with caution.

 

 

My heart almost jumped out of my mouth.

I was terrified.

My nerves were trembling and couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t know what to do.

The long calm wait was suffocating me with its ominous, foreboding, cynical smile.

I trembled, my palms were so clammy I could barely hold my key.

I felt the grating sound of approaching feet that echoed and thundered upon my eardrums.

I ran as fast as my wobbly legs could carry me.

My lungs were on fire as I tried to take in as much oxygen as my panting from exertion would let me.

I was tired, but I had to move on fast.

I wanted to stay alive.

 

 

It’s morning again.

I want to cuddle up.

I want to stay under the covers.

But, wake up, I must.

I peel myself from the warm embrace of my bed.

I step out to face the day.

First things first, I tell myself; as I wash my face and take my breakfast.

Dearest bed, I will make you pretty.

Yes, I will make my bed before I leave to face the day.

For you see, this is my first task and achievement of the day.

So make my bed, I will. 

 

 

What am I trying to prove?

To whom am I proving it?

Why do I strive so hard to please this faceless persona?

How did I become trapped in this maze of “perfection”?

When did I start demanding it from everyone else except myself?

 

Or, did I?

Aren’t I the first casualty of this lead mantle?

This stifling, strangling cape is snuffing the life out of those around me and myself.

I struggle with the shortcomings within me.

Oh! That I may finally be the imperfect human, I am.

 

I have many flaws.

I bumble, stumble and fall, often.

I fumble, bungle, and blunder.

I miss the mark many times.

I still dare stand tall, for I am moving forward.

 

I learn from my mistakes.

I am growing, albeit in a slow manner.

I forge through dense “undergrowth” of self doubt, guilt and judgment.

I release me and you all.

Let’s embrace who we are and be the best version of ourselves.

 

Work in progress, imperfect, but thriving!

 

 

Oh! That I may be at liberty.

I want to  shake off these shackles that weigh me down and hold me captive.

Oh! That I may soar in the lovely expanse of the “life I have always longed to live.”

I am tired of toiling and dredging.

Peoples’ opinions and expectations have incarcerated me.

I am diminishing and dying in this prison. 

The slave master “fear” and “self loath” have beaten me mercilessly and starved me.

At times, they give me the loaf of “self-pity” and “polluted water” of depression for my meal.

Oh! How I long to be free.

 

 

She sat down; her movements were delicate, slow, and laced with pain.

She tried to swat away the dark thoughts that buzzed in her mind like flies on a carcass.

She sighed, a lonesome howling sound that emanated from the cave within her soul.

She wiped her hand across her exhausted countenance, in a bid to erase the signs of her anguished soul, to no avail.

The scowl that had comfortably snuggled on her forehead was reluctant to leave. 

 

 

You smile and say hello.

You ambush me with your embrace.

You destroy and wreak havoc on my abode.

Then you walk away nonchalantly.

 

 

Intensely, that’s how she lived.

It never showed up much in her life.

For she always seemed slow and hesitant in her actions.

Yet, intense, she was and deeply so, in her soul.

For she was passionate, loved wholly, and hurt fiercely.

She had no filter, for she wore her heart on a sleeve.

She poured herself to others.

She loved out loud.

 

 

Heavy heart.

Melting eyes.

Oh, so tired.

But live on, I must.

For each breath is a gift.

 

 

Numbers, numbers!

They keep rising and gathering momentum.

They terrify me and leave me hopeless.

I keep wondering if I or any of those dear to me are next.

 

Numbers, numbers.

Am I becoming numb?

Is this how I insulate myself from these enumerations?

These tallies keep rushing in unabated.

 

I freeze them out of my mind, its the only way I can cope.

They don’t concern me yet, so they don’t matter.

They are just numbers, aren’t they?

Though I am trying to deceive myself, I know they aren’t neutral.

 

Numbers, numbers.

I empathize.

I offer my condolences.

I mourn with you, who grieves alone.

 

Numbers, numbers!

You are not alone, though your world has been shattered and turned upside down.

You whose loved one is part of these statistics, I stand with you.

Oh yes, I refuse to allow myself to become numb and indifferent.

 

For even though these numbers seem neutral, they aren’t.

They are proof of our connection.

We are all part of the big family of humanity.

These numbers reflect us all regardless of which continent we inhabit.

 

I, thus, stand in solidarity with my family of humanity touched by these here numbers.