When I saw you, my heart ripped apart
and rearranged into something new
something that looked like love,
a shape that looked like hope.
You are the reason I am, my child,
else, this world had lost its shine,
you have brought back its gloss
and reshaped me into me again.
It was the summer of possibilities
of hopes that filled the heart,
of dreams that strained to come true,
of joy that was smug and proud.
Youth can be foolish, I knew not then,
invincibility a mirage, I knew not then,
hopes, frail,a dried leaf, I knew not then,
broken I was when ended that summer.
It was the summer of pain and loss,
of pieces of me mixed with sweat,
of nursing a broken heart and penning
songs of betrayal and disbelief.
Those long afternoons, friends and guitar,
The sweet lemonade ma made,
did little to wipe off the bitterness,
A friend that had come to stay.
It was the summer I grew up
when naive me I buried and let go
When I stopped believing in hopes
and started trusting the darkness.
A foe was that summer and yet
t’was a summer to remember.
Love arrives, raw and simple
bringing along cousins
questions and complexities.
Will love stay, will it grow?
Or with time, wither, will it?
You step into the unknown,
love rendering you fearless,
You believe that it will all be roses,
dreaming of a happily ever after.
Oh, my dear, blundering fool!
Your love is to be tested and tried
and tempered and tossed,
each corner measuring its strength
each turn assessing its value.
You want to give up, you are tired
Yet, you decide to cling on,
for you believe in your heart,
you believe in being together.
And then one day, the sun comes out,
and up there somewhere, God smiles,
At last, at the end of the last blow
and the last bump, it hits you.
Suddenly, you know, overcoming
tempests, turns and twists,
you know, now, this love is forever,
it is to stay, come what may.
The sweet nothings of the star struck lovers made me smile, the romance of the newly weds made me blush. Those first baby steps still reverberates in my soul.
I have seen it all. The fights, the love, the hate. I have chuckled at those bad TV shows you loved. The delicious smells from the kitchen, I have soaked in-I think I smell like the curries, the paellas, the baklavas, the barbequed ribs even now.
And I smell of you, of the families that made a home in me, of the families that grew, and those that sometimes, sadly became smaller.
Oh, the birthdays I celebrated with you and the mad parties I tolerated. The successes that made me proud, the failures that I helped you bear.
Your fights made me cringe, the hate that you spewed in that spur of that moment crushed my soul. But when you made up, I knew love owns a greater space in your hearts. And that made my heart grow big too.
I am the blend of so many of you, I am, in myself, a book not written. I am not made of bricks, but of stories untold.
I am the house you lived in, the one you called home, albeit just for sometime.
She see a tiny dot that glows,
A blob so blinding that she blinks.
She edges closer, parched and dry,
The darkness still trying to swallow her.
The light comes closer to her,
Or she to it, she knows not,
But it beckons, it tempts, it seduces.
The blackness grabs her from the back.
But there is fight still left in her,
the dark tunnel cannot be her end.
It is enough, she says to the abyss
She drags herself and her soul
Towards the brilliance that is growing.
A light so ethereal, so imposing
that darkness recedes, giving up.
She reaches out, grabbing
a handful of luminescence,
a handful of hope.
She has made it, she has won,
defeating the darkness,
conquering the pain.
As the waves of life pin me down,
I wonder if drowning would be easier
Will it set me free, will it bring peace?
But then as I sink deeper and deeper,
I get a glimpse of what I know not.
A light breaks into the water,
a sliver of silver that promises to grow.
It is blinding, it is alluring, it finds its way
into the deepest corners of a heart
that has succumbed to sorrow.
Suddenly, the waves feel lighter,
they part way for me to rise.
My feet wake to life, and I slowly
begin to swim, strides becoming faster
as the unknown light draws closer.
I break free, I rise, I breathe new air
I reach out and touch that light.
It fills my being with a new purpose.
Is this light a sign of hope?
Is it faith? Is it God? I know not.
Just a force that has made me rise,
that has nudged me out of despair,
that has whispered, my time is not yet up.
The magician looks into the blue eyes, momentarily forgetting who he is. He is being washed away by the waves in those eyes.
He is young, but he is fascinated by the old craft of magic, markets like this one being the perfect place to practice. Hyptonism is his favourite art. The swinging of a trinket, seeing people sleep with their eyes open, getting transported to their past, floating into the dark recesses of their minds.
Today is the second day of the fair and he has been hoping he would be able to practice his craft on some young uns. They are more difficult to break through, so alert and skeptical that they are.
And in walks this girl into the little tent. Soft and light, like a breeze. His heart stops for a moment, his soul stirs, his stomach flutters. Love at first sight? Nonsense, he thinks.
And then he looks at her eyes and he knows he has sunk. Deep into that ocean of blue, of indigo, of violet.
“I heard you hyptonise people,” Are you a psychic? Can you do that to me and find out what my soul is searching for?”, she says. Her voice smooth as velvet, musical as a songbird.
“I can’t hyptonise someone who has hyptonised me.” He thinks, but does not say.
“Yes, sure. I think I know who your soul has been searching for,” he says.
“I do. For maybe I have been searching for the same thing.”
“Thats nonsense,” says the girl.
“I thought so too. Till a moment ago.”