As I See It

Month: May, 2014

family

The walls close in,
and I shudder in fear
helpless deep down and under.
I can blame no one
for a bungle my own.
I hold my legs, curl into a ball,
cry to sleep, feeling the fall.
I wake up to loud, unrelenting beeps;
a resolute inkling had made you call.
I recount to you my tale; 
my chin quivers, my hand shivers
as my repentant eyes search the floor
for an invisible door.
I was to always do you proud.
Your voice though lifts my head up 
and your words kiss its fore. 
You haul me up, prod me higher
and nod with a smile that 
tells me more.


You're rummaging for the next 
chronological step,
lost in the parallels of your tale.
My eyes fixed on yours,
go with you far away,
around the clock in circles 
backward.
As you lead me on up the rickety steps
into that faint evening,
your eyes start to dampen. 
Tears softly surface in mine,
push to the end of every lash,
threaten to plummet
and roll down an inch;
I struggle to keep them in.
Can I hold your hand tight
and rewrite the rest?
For it's a sorrow so deep
to see you weep.


They say: family is that
with flow of blood identical.
I ask: What is that that 
has a flow more intense
but of emotion instead?
What when the similarity I see
is in faith and belief?
and when it isn't desire,
but growing fondness and deference?
What when there is a definite link
of magical instinct,
of affection that shoots up, a pang
but then balms into gentle tears
and prolonged, eloquent embraces,
and of love that can't subside,
that refuses to quieten.
What is it when walking away is 
each time heart-breaking,
and the idea of farewell
isn't even one?
You tell me: When this is all
unconditionally absolute 
and absolutely unconditional, 
what can you be to me
but family?

3/5/2014

Can you hear me

to my uncle

Did you have a secret?
Was it more than one?
Information, someone said
was eternal.
I can not not wonder:
in a realization of this sonder,
did you to take away some
back to where you came from.
Did you want something 
to keep 
in a corner, tucked under your heart
through this protracted hour of sleep;
Is that for me to figure?
Or is it something for you,
only for you?

What's a locked safe
without a key?
You've left us a maze
A mystery to face;
a code to decipher;
a cavern to uncover.
I pry and try
to dig out the unknowns,
to resolve this labyrinthe;
for you left us jagged corners
of an incomplete world.
What do we do
when your disappearing act
shrouds us in black?

Can you hear me
and the voices within?
Will you listen
as I whisper to you
all that I forgot to?
Will you ease into a nap
as I sing a lullaby,
patting your hair, closing each gap?
Will you confide in me, where you went
I'll keep it with me like it was meant
Till we reunite
A future day, a later night.
Do you have a last word?
A word for me
only me.
Say it softly
In a susurrrant hush
I'll get the words amidst 
the dissonance.
I'll try to hear
I press, press my ear.
This time I won't mind the mush.


With love.

Au Revoir

to my uncle

A day
among those millions,
I forgot to notice your warm smile.
for you had always been there,
I believed you'd continue to be.

I was in the fore-ground
and you in the background
of all my scenes.
I said my lines,
wrote my story,
embraced some characters into life,
ignored some into non-existence.
But you, you stayed through;
you were my wall, you.
Walls are often underrated.
You forget they exist,
because they always do.
You were my backdrop
one that validated my being;
for a stage can't be, without one.
You stood reticent as I played hero
never walking out of the frame,
beamimg each time my act came to a close.
I, though, was too busy 
building a reknowned name,
among characters that were a game
to keep; you became inconspicuous 
amidst the vicinal blur.

Until one day
one wretched day
when you chose to leave the backcloth,
with just a hole across.
It was shaped like you, every edge
even the concave of your nose bridge.
It was like a scar in my act.
You had fit into the hole until,
like a jig-zaw puzzle piece.
Had you become too frail to fit in anymore?
I'd have altered the pieces around,
or sacked any other to keep you ashore.
You however left instead,
without a word said,
bequeathing me just vacuum -
a space that'd remain unfilled.
A constant evoker of guilt
for all the times
I blurred you into insignificance.

I had thought walls endured
and outlived mortals.
But you taught me what I never knew:
When walls fall,
they crumble everyone around too,
but keep them alive and breathing,
in an envelope of knife-like shards, 
unilateral hugs, unsaid words,
and toss to them an inescapable obligation 
to get back to living the same unfair,
and incomplete plot.


With love.
%d bloggers like this: