The stream (all workshops)
We are the adivasis,
Those Mundals and Santals,
Who had lived in India
Before Dravidians did,
Before Aryans came through passes.
We are the adivasis,
Who by Aryans were
Called Rakshasas,
Who by Aryans were
Slaughtered to their whims and fancy.
We are the adivasis,
Like Ekalavya,
Who by Arya Drona was
Disabled to their delight,
To glorifiy Arjuna to our plight.
Its slender vine reaches up
toward the open window,
fuchsia petals grace the room
covered in silent sunlight.
I am alone in this moment,
beguiled with a delicate color
that offers its beauty,
whispers from the lonely shelf,
then slightly bows,
its softness the only sound
in the room.
The things I kept I put away for a time.
Photographs, and other small items that clung to grief.
I kept them at a distance. A kind of shelter
until time made them possible to face again.
I realized, after the immediacy of pain and loss,
that I wasn’t going to let it be about being empty
or deserted, for which I’ve been grateful,
but that it would be about the love that suggested
I put those things away in the first place.
I have long known the click of keys,
the clack of heels and ‘hurr’ of laboured
breath as joggers slap
and cough down winding paths.
I know the taffeta rustle as trees
in full leaf betray the expectant breeze.
How familiar ferries blare through clanking yachts and how the slap and slosh
of their wake washes the harbour rocks.
I feel the ground beneath me tremble
as a passing subterranean train races on
and the old earth exhales through crackling grass.
Re-centering
Rethinking
Relaxing
Releasing anger
Receptive
Respondent
Resilient
Resourceful
Respectful
Reserved
Requiting
Remarkable
Returning
Rejuvenated
Rehabilitation
Self-Realization
Recognizant
Recovery
Redefined
Redressed
Reclamation
Reconstructed
Repairing
Resplendent
lay as I sleep
falling into dark abyss
no path to tread
a bottomless pit
stumbling around
I search and search
for a guiding light
somewhere inside
I was lucky to be alive today
I thank my parents for their part to play
Making me want to stay
Lucky to have seen the light of day
I was lucky to have a loving home
A place where love was always known
Grateful for the love I’ve grown
A love that is always shown
I was lucky for my many friends
Who gave me incite to many trends
Always ready to make amends
Teaching me to tie up loose ends
he was not a stranger once
just someone I sat with sometimes
drinking coffee
talking about cars
mobile phones and rust
dull conversations about nothing much
but sometimes darker
thoughts would tumble in a torrent
from his mouth
like flies watching death
fear of madness
prison
kakodaimons
I had nothing much to say
understanding the spaces
in anguish
until he hit me
one semi-perfect day
Disguised as an Apple Computer Technician.
He initially hacked Macbook Pro laptop.
He (alias Harvey Specter)
planted seeds of suspicion
that criminal activity prevailed
within my geographic area in general
or questionable individuals
lurked within or without
Citizens Bank in particular,
and suggested yours truly (me)
to be wary about
over friendly employees
at aforementioned capital one
storied financial institution.
Like those last
lucious faintly
enfeebled breaths
bitterly breaking
through my
limply lifting lungs .
Fervently flooding
my tear filled
eyes. Tenderly
tottering into
those timidly
tight-lipped times .
Who wistfully
whispers
their coolly
cut cards of
kindred conversations.
Carefully kindling
their heart-crossed
corners of compassion.
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