Tag: freedom

Dusk

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As one light dwindled and the other dimly shined,/In that blissful liminality, our corruption was overlaid with the essence of true freedom. 

Dusk

I’ve neglected this blog for a while mostly because my last two years of university were insanely busy and I barely had time to exhale, let alone maintain this site. However, I have not been creatively idle during these months of COVID madness. I wish I could have written more but life is life.

Most of the following posts are poems I created during this period but the first two are throwbacks. I think Dusk is the second ‘proper’ poem I ever wrote, way back in my teenage years. My good friend Claudia and I have adjacent birthdays so we had a joint celebration that involved a surreally beautiful time at a park, hammock swinging, bike riding and good conversation having. To top it all off, we were blessed with a stunning dusk. I was intensely happy on that day in a way I take pains to describe in this poem. I don’t know if I manage it but talking about feelings is notoriously hard. Enjoy.

We all seemed suspended in satisfaction.
Nothing was real, or perhaps reality was shrouded in some delicately woven gossamer 
exuding a light all its own.

Not of the sun, that chill authority, for it was setting then
and it does not know how to bathe the earth in a soothing glow
But only how to set it ablaze. 
The sun knows no gentleness, no human sympathy.

For how can it, when from time’s birth it has loomed over all our fruitless friction?
It has never sought to understand the fragile weakness of our hearts.

It is far away.

No. It was not that light that graced the hairs on your skin and danced with mine about my neck.

Nor was it the moon, that lesser light, the nocturnal queen on the brink of assuming her throne.
Less fierce than her spouse but just as cold
like a great steel eye, watching as the strife of this life 
mingles with our nightly tears or 
rips up our sleep with visionary fears.

But there was a moment

in which we could escape the tyranny of those distant spheres.
As one light dwindled and the other dimly shined, 
In that blissful liminality, our corruption was overlaid with the essence of true freedom.
And through that light we saw in each other’s eyes
the soul unshackled

stay curious and well read

Trapped

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My words are ripples on the surface of these walls and I am mocked by their echo.

Trapped
I am sitting in a room. The walls are opaque and seem to be shrinking.
But I don't want to dwell on that.
I don't want to dwell in this room either but that can't be helped.

To be quite honest, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't really mind being locked in here for a while.
I could probably enjoy the quiet, the sense of existing
out of orbit with the rest of the world.

But these walls are so black, and the floor, and the ceiling and
the black is so insurmountably thick. 
I want to slice through it like a plane pierces a night sky with
light but the blackness
is intangible 
and I 
barely make a 
crack. 



These are not normal circumstances.
It's been two months and now I know it is not my imagination-these walls are getting closer by the second and I am running out of time to
give you this message that I'm really giving me instead of you because I am talking to myself. I know you can't hear me. 
My words are ripples on the surface of these walls and I am mocked by their echo. 

But if, by any chance, an echo bleeds through to the other side,
if, by any chance, my voice crosses the chasm that separates my black room from your excessively lit reality,
then please-
send help.

Now onto the reflection.

stay curious and well read