Construction:: Destruction

This post is inspired by these pictures taken by a friend.

She was in the dark,
as yet misshaped, unformed;
still held up with sticks,
surrounded with the rubble
that follows survival.
Even then
she had the glow
that drew travelers in.

I remember watching her,
her monochromatic skin shining
in the late evening sunlight,
and I knew then
what faith was.

She said to me once,
when you think of me,
don’t think of the destruction
that brought me here –
of garbage, of breakdowns,
of weakness, of endings.
Think of the scaffolds
that support me,
that you climbed on,
as my adornments.

Don’t think of the darkness
in my interiors
where you hid from the world.
Remember me, she said,
for the light you once saw
emanating from somewhere in me,
that brought you to me.

Don’t see me as alone,
aloof and monotone.
Feel the warmth
that calmed your feverish body
when you were inside me.

Don’t think of me, she said,
as under construction –
incomplete, broken, empty.
Remember me, she said,
as the place
you briefly called home.

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Meta memory

one day
all my memories will be such
bathed in sunlight
sprinkled with flowers
dipped in the sky
like they were looking out
at the busy landscape
of a big city.
or maybe they will be
fogged over with longing
coloured in greys
as if
they were imagined.

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wanderer, her friends called her
for her eyes roved the horizon constantly.
she liked to think of herself as warrior
and her roving eyes the training of war;
looking out for the dangers that lurked
within the actions of enemies,
but mostly within friends and lovers.

she had been a wanderer
long before her eyes
started roving.
she had walked along the sea shores
allowing the waves to tingle at her feet
and leave her gasping with their splash.
she had climbed the mountains
breathing in light, morning air
allowing it to constrict her chest.

she had loved the only way she knew how
with her soul reaching out
to the whole world her lovers inhabited,
allowing herself to bleed inside them;
hoping that they loved her enough,
while they broke her one minute,
healed her the next,
and left her heart thirsting.

they had accused her of weakness and strength,
thoughtlessness and overthought,
apathy and passion,
until the eyes learned to rove,
anticipate their next arrow
and another wanderer became a warrior.

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he who comes in like the waves –
lush, frothy, soothing, loud,
his smell lingering behind me
where he paused a gentle moment.

he who leaves like the waves –
brash, clear, quiet, slow,
his words hanging over me
where he spoke them potently.

he who cannot be contained
in a box, in a hand, in a heart,
for what are trapped waves
but salted water?

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Libraries of lost days

when the doors close
and my existence is packed away,
under the big banyan tree
the accountants
will stand around, and ponder,
searching my libraries,
looking for the lost days.

the days of sunlight and trees,
of long conversations and coffee,
of colorful ideas on white paper,
of winter mornings wrapped
in layers of softness, and you –
the days of indulgence
and unrealism.

those days they won’t find –
those days that still breathe,
living way outside my existence,
looping around each other,
in the place where i survive,
beyond time, and memory,
the library called limbo.

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Ode to a beloved

your words
pierced through dreams,
while your eyes
burned my skin.

your lips grazed me and
i wandered lost and confused,
searching for an answer
to their many questions.

your tongue tasted
my many labyrinths,
leaving a deeper void
where emptiness once stood.

i questioned
how your arms held me
so tenderly
when my own legs
buckled under the saga.

the dark deep forest,
the sand slipping through fingers
on a faraway seashore,
the prophecies which came true,
and the responsibilities
of dreams.

and just like
you once told me
the story of sadness,
you should have told me
that when the story ended
sadness would truly begin.

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Who I will be

i will begin
by forgetting
every moment of you
and then
let go
of every desire
and finally
every dream
of making memories
with you
and then emerge
the time slayer

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