|
||||||||||||||
PASSING FOR HUMAN
Surrounded
by a light blue and taut,
carpet of indifference,
I surf waves in my mind.
Go for parties, meet people, converse,
live a normal life.
I glue in, piece by piece, cut outs of life,
I put up, layer by layer, soundproof rubber walls,
I strike out, and shift back in, but never with feeling.
I love and do not trust, I touch but do not feel,
I breath without exhaling, my thoughts fester,
I am, and I am not.
And in my heart, rebellion,
cold resolve,
the grapes of wrath grow
they will bring forth, a clear pale red,
enticing bouquet, sweet poison.
I never volunteered to be
a specialist in destruction,
I cannot help but seek
even in carnage, lessons of compassion,
project benevolence, and
impatiently wait for grace.
The mirrors around me, skewed,
the images torn,
whose idea of heaven are they?
The voices of help,
invoices for gratitude,
what has been bid for my loyal hand?
Such questions are not for the asking
they are an epithet
such knowledge is not for the living
it is a blessing only in death.
This is my inheritance
come from a truant parent,
this is my cross,
‘Passing for Human’ – ness.
|
||||||||||||||
I write poetry for much the same reason that a mountain climber constantly dreams of his next mountain – ‘because its there’.
I went through a phase when poetry was creative expression, to a phase where poetry was an achievement, to a phase where poetry was catharsis, to a phase where poetry was a private space, to a phase where poetry was autobiography. Now, I use my poems as problem solving tools.
You are an essential part of the solution.
My poems are my dreams of what we can achieve, I am passing the flag to you.
Without you, I would not have bothered.