Below is the poem entitled I Woke Up One Morning which was written by poet
Bacha. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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"I Woke Up One Morning."
I woke up one morning as if from a dream,
I had lived from being a child, to an old age.
I was struck by anguish and fear until I realized
that this dream was my awakened past.
I walked this earth with steady feet,
Carrying my mind in my heart.
Surrounded by some who cared and
other's who couldn't.
I felt betrayed and in return I wounded myself.
Those marks are invisible, yet the pain is deeply
felt with inner scars.
Along my path, I met my mother, a passive soul!
kind, and generous, unable to express her perplexed mind.
I met my father! unsatisfied at who he was,
blowing blows of anger and frustration, into his world,
yet sensitive enough To overwhelm his children with
silence and authority, which he called love and protection
from a world he feared.
And under his wings was no such living.
I met my eldest brother, who's joy on this earth was
short lived! A soul refined with inner depth and struggle
to better himself and love unbounded by more love
to those he loved.
I met my little sister, who will represent a loving
child within a grown sensitive, and sensible feeling
woman Her inner space, glows in her outer beauty,
which remained young coming from the depth
of her feelings, and suffering, and re-suffering,
while creating from her own flesh her home.
We left our native home where we laughed,
and cried, growing, hoping to fulfill a dream
not yet dreamt.
Follows a life with pressure, discontent,
pain, submissiveness we walked, unconnected
with our partners, divided, never holding hands
along the path.
Four new lives, time, events, war, death, tears and smiles...
engulfed our existence, until all that we call freedom
brought an unaccomplished freedom
short lived, yet lived.
I met my younger brother he our enigma our flesh
and blood runs together in different fields.
Children and more children they are our treasures.
Their pains and joys reflect in our lives.
Yet, nothing can cut through the thread that holds
our lives together.
Young and old and growing will remain enduring,
with every breath we breath, away or close,
we hear each other's silences.
Awake at night we see a portrait of beauty, love,
courage, and endurance and colorful.
Awake with a warm feeling that I am
that multiplicity of them, I am not alone
as they live in me and from me as one.
Contest Old Poem You Are Proud Of. Nathan. A WIN (Honorable Mention)