From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
War is never over
Thought the treaties may be signed
The memories of the battles
Are forever in our minds
War is never over
So when you welcome heroes home
Remember in their minds they hold
Memories known to them alone
They sent me a salwar kameez
&nb sp; peacock-blue,
& nbsp; and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
&nbs p; points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
&n bsp; snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
&n bsp; in Pakistan -
Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts
Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go
The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters
By tall trees looking downward, old and gnarled.
Found to the eyes of children alone, untold,
Singing a low song in the loneliness.
And the young child, Christ, goes on asking
And the old men answer nothing and only know love
For the young child. Christ, straight and wise.
Love is but a game of two,
I've noted with curiosity.
But who will pair me, who?
Who will choose someone like me?
It is a game, so they say,
It is a way it seems for all.
It is a game for two to play,
And if played well it will pay.
As the sun shines through the leaves...
Peering through in the shape of a heart...
Our park benches sit so empty...
As insecure love drifts apart...
Your hand no longer clutching mine...
On the walks which we no longer go...
The emptiness runs oh so deep...
Like a well with no bottom below...
Perspective is a hell of a thing.
Meeting her was like looking into the eyes of a phoenix.
Soaring through a forest blanketed in darkness
Fire illuminating the night sky,
Radiating a gradient of yellows and reds,
While burning down the ferns and pines that block her path.
Too beautiful not to stare
But also, too dangerous to linger.
I'm surrounded by people, but still feel alone,
I'm running, not stopping, or I'll turn to stone.
The moment my feet freeze the panic sets in,
My tongue turns to silver, my heart turns to tin!
And I cannot move,
I've got everything to lose-
“ The smell of the
connection still knocks my
heart with a drop of salty
water departing my cart ;
With a step on the ground,
silence walking everywhere,
looking at distance,
standing alone and
felt the welcoming air ”