THE DAY
On the day of your birth
you entered time
and were handed a planet
beauty and danger
played chess with each other
they took turns winning
some winged spirit
was assigned to pull
you back from precipices
another led you to vistas
that continue to feed
your wandering heart
so here’s to time
the time allotted to us
the time we allot
to what can’t be taken
away from us, what remains
after we leave.
NOT MINE
I’ve been photoshopped –
not what you think –
I no longer recognize me
in public, but strangers do –
I’ve been called names
not mine
my way blocked
I’ve been pushed off
into someone else’s past
to make room for those
who own the present –
they claim I’m in debt
the ones who regulate
license and circulate images –
they know what they want --
a man pointed a gun at me
in a city riot – I’ve been
promised a future
I’m trying to avoid –
degreed authorities
in identity allocation
have issued me a new bio
with an extensive history
not mine
–but there it is --
my protests only confirm
the long list of crimes
I’m accused of, to justify
whatever – payback time.
Is there a happiness not built
on the suffering of others?
I’m a work of fiction
not mine.
SLOWLY
Neither one of us
asked the other to dance
we just circulated slowly
the crowded room
until we were back to back
then turned to each other
politely, as if to introduce
ourselves, but said nothing
just took each other
into our arms
and started to dance
to some melancholy strings
and the beat of our hearts
our feet just above the floor
everyone else withdrew
into another time zone
to let some unspoken wish
connect the two of us forever
for the separation to come.
LEAVING
I’ve left my life many
times. “Sorry,” I’ve said,
“You can have everything.
I’m starting anew.”
I’ve kissed my favourite
ideas goodbye. “I wish
you worked. Can’t
support you anymore.”
No baggage with me
when I close the front door –
sun or storm
I’m walking into it.
True, at times I’ve been
evicted my house
in flames it was stay
and die or leave and live.
I’m learning another language
changing my fingerprints
shedding my skin
whatever it takes.
I say I’m leaving, but
I could be wrong, maybe
I’m just coming home
who knows where I live.
I’ve shaken hands
with the Past – it is past.
It opened my eyes.
I’m grateful for everything
Yes, I’m leaving what was me
ideas that blinded
no baggage for me
as I step into another Day.
DIRT
If she were a flower,
she would close her petals
against Destiny for leaving
her in the dirt.
The beauty of her fragrant
red bloom she would not connect
with the dark soil feeding
her everything she needs.
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