POEMS

Her Mighty Pens

If you saw her from a distance 

You would say she’s calm

You may think her shy

But strength lies in calmness

To the best of knowledge,

She never wrote down her thoughts,

Her gifts of expressiveness,

She passed on to her offspring 

Three, a boy, last

But there are things 

That cannot be deciphered

What she feels in moments,

Her fears and uncertainties ,

Her hopes and long waits of anticipation,

These, all knitted in her wool of calmness 

And so…

She’s a hard one to read

But a special one

Who birthed three writers.

Strong and opinionated.

And what gifts she has nurtured!

For what she could never say,

For what she suppressed, 

The world hears in different tales,

She birthed three writers

She brought forth her mighty pens!

And this pen is one of hers.

You’ll find soft in me

See the waves, 

Thunder and roar while approaching 

As if they were independent from the vastness of the ocean

Yet they arrive at the shoreline

With roaring turned to whispers 

Kissing and greeting the sand with a plausible gentleness 

See the lone chick 

Wander away from the traveling family

With a quiet courage 

Convinced she knows her way around 

In a world so vast

But before the wandering…was an egg

A shell.

Firm.

Unyielding.

And that is who I appear to be

Rough at the edges

Rigid in my ways

Bearing a shell that’s hard to understand 

One I protect for my own protection 

I am the wandering chick

Once an egg, still bearing the traits of one at my core

So give me time

Give me patience and dexterity…

That life asks of one entrusted with an egg

If you look hard enough, 

You’ll find soft in me 

And isn’t that in the end what a cooked egg becomes?

You’ll find soft in me

The quiet promise of what I can become.

Lonesome Company 

Some moments

Spent chasing midnights

Because the day had proven hard 

And home had dealt a difficult hand

Lonesome company 

Found in the hall couch

Found in an empty cola can

Found in the background whooshing sounds 

of my tinnitus 

Some days

Spent chasing money

Because there were mouths to feed 

And the bills needed paying 

Lonesome company

Found in the steam from a hot shower 

Found in the caress of a towel

Found in the background whooshing sounds 

of my tinnitus 

Some days

Spent chasing yesterday 

Because it was easier back then

And being a child, it’s great to be young

Lonesome company

Found in reminiscing 

Found in flashbacks

Found in the background whooshing sounds 

of my tinnitus

And then one day

To spend chasing all of eternity

Because it never will go away

And never will there be a silent second

Lonesome company

Found in my ear canals

Found harassing my stillness

It is my tinnitus, It is my tinnitus 

My Husband’s Desk

Oh to be loved by him,

My darling husband

But envy the winding down,

At first I couldn’t comprehend 

Seemed like too much time

My husband’s desk, a place akin cloud nine  

For a year, two and three

I still couldn’t comprehend 

The hours he’d spend 

At the cordoned off spot 

Till one day I had work 

My darling husband, he offered up his desk

It was say 8 o’clock, the eve silent as a grave

When suddenly like a Eureka moment it dawned on me

The whys of the past years, all three

The whys of him sitting at this desk

It was freeing, a haven

A place to think outside the stresses of the day

Some days, sleep would compete, even me, the dear wife

My husband’s desk has gifted me a life lesson 

That to be freely you 

Is something to cherish 

Seeking

Not a daisy

But a chamomile will do

Not your usual

But your best try will do

Seeking for a calm in you

Seeking for something, I may have lost from you

Not a sunflower

But a daisy will do

It would light me up

But that was a while, a stalk from you I got

Seeking for the light from then

Seeking in between the flickers and the blackouts

Not a friend at this moment

Maybe, better acquaintance than stranger

Not the butterflies in my stomach feeling

But a hint of affection would suffice

Seeking for a reassuring word, or touch even

Seeking…for a withdrawn soothing

To Be A Mom

To be a Mom

Is like a daily sunrise

Every day unlike before

But a new beginning

For new lessons

To be a Mom

Is to forego self

No longer self absorbed 

But nurturing another 

A birth and rebirth

To be a Mom

Is to unearth hidden strength 

Strength never before perceived

Awake for baby, hungry for baby

Every emotion shared with baby

To be a Mom

Is a deeply fulfilling experience 

A Gift from God Almighty

To Woman

Because She was made for This

Postpartum

Toes to fingers

And a smile that lights up a room

Yet if my stare lingers

Tears will take over

Chin to chest

And a push that brought silence

Yet if I talk of then

Again, tears will take over

Hands to my Bible

And a new me calling out to Abba

I know only He understands me

Tears are still falling, but one day they shan’t

Toes to fingers

And the babbling of “mama”

I look at my boy with love

A love I hadn’t ever known

Breath versus Winds

If you’ve heard the winds billow

Then your attention is held

Mere seconds, maybe

If you’ve heard a swallowed breath

Then your attention is held tight, like a constricted neck

Mere but heavy seconds, elapsing

I wonder if you hear me…

The winds must have swallowed my words

If my breath I swallow too, time and time again, yet you cannot perceive…

Then the winds have conquered

Your attention, now held…

Then it is as tight as a constricted neck

And as you panic

It it too late…

One last breath taken

The winds billow, cue the dirge

The winds have conquered

And a blank page is turned open

A Spare You

For the times I asked

But you chose not to disclose

Then this is the task

That a spare you I must find

… in my repose

For the times it is quiet

But the silence holds a question

Then I should remedy my plight

That a spare you, I imagine

A spare you, a void to fill in

For the times you’ve chosen to be away

When you could have opened up to me

Then someday, to me maybe you’ll find a way

There and then, a spare you for me, need not be

But till then, a spare you it shall be

…in heart and in mind

The Meadowlark

Oh hear,

How beautifully the meadowlark sings

To ambience, she has been open to

A not so distant time ago

When she asked if she may be vulnerable

And so she has sang songs

Songs to proclaim joy

Songs that reveal her heart

Songs to re-echo reassurance

Songs that have unearthed her flaws

But one song, sang, but not in entirety

A song for a duet

A song where she promises no detachment

A song where she promises to always bare her all

Ambience failing her

So she sings alone

And it is painful

She’s been vulnerable all along

But a wall is up, put up by Ambience

She sings, wanting not to be a nuisance to the ear

To the ear of the one

The one that she gave her heart to

The one that bares little emotionally

The one that is teaching her old habits

The meadowlark sings and has sang!

But the day approaches when she decides

That to be mute and detached, is her elixir

Sunset

I know of her

That many have chased

Her, that has kept time waiting

Her, that has taught many patience

I know of her

A beautiful sight to behold

Chase if you must

Because she is a beauty!

But on some days

She’s chasing me

She’s stalking me

She’s many a warm hue

And for some minutes, she lingers

Streaking curtains, painting walls

Even bold to caress a face

But not for long

Sunset, she is

A feisty orange

A flaming red

Sometimes, a hypnotizing pink

Good Morning, Good Night

I thought about you

So I texted to say good morning

And then I thought about you some more

My text, as useful as an unsent one

I thought about you

So I texted to say good night

Then came dawn, but no response

And so I thought some more

Something about a good morning text

A little sweetness to my day,

Something about a good night text

Soothing, for some sound sleep,

Like a pinch of salt or a spritz of perfume,

Blush on my cheeks for a pop of color,

Like a drop of water, making a mighty ocean

The little things go so far

The fewest of words may change a day,

For tomorrow isn’t given

The fewest of words, may be the last you ever say,

Because sleep may come and be deep

So good morning, my dear

I thought of you

And I pray you have a good night

Godwilling, you hear from me on the morrow

Canvas

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this

But I tell you now, the story

Of the paint splattered canvas

Once white and bare

Awaiting kaleidoscopic ideas

Of painter, once in euphoria

It wouldn’t have ended up like this

But here is the story

Of the birth of insecurities

Once unknown, some well managed

But words sowed seeds

In a painter, once self assured

It shouldn’t have ended up like this

But the story is clear

The canvas white, no more

And awe no more, to its beholder

Because of unkind words and opinions

The painter, now in need of an inner mending

Blossom now, You, Rose …

Taking it, because I taught myself to

Listening, because all they did was subdue

Oh, what an awakening

Rose flower, time to see a blossoming

From first sight of a hue

To petals fragile, trying to break through

Rose flower, touched pruned, positioned

But truly blossom, she hasn’t

The rose wants to blossom

Her way, bend if she must

The rose wants her true growth

It’s time, their opinions must go with the dust

Meanwhile

As you find yourself

Chasing after your dreams

Bringing life to your desires

There’s a meanwhile

That encircles you

Our Creator, Our God

He knows best

He wants for us

What will exceed

Our highest expectations

Dear one,

Fret not,

Over what’s on the other side of the fence

But in the meantime

Floating in the meanwhile

Be content, and also ready yourself

For a forever blessing