Dilemma
What do you say
When tree leaves fall in spring
And the heart becomes ice
Amidst the flowers of May
Will the answer
Love is never enough
Be good enough
To patch the wounds of hope?
Or shall I tell them
We are worthless bleached of all the savour
Of knowing our fault
In that mirror that sees no self, but the other?
You do not know the pain
Of knowing which way to go
When no one else can believe but you.
Every game of survival is not a game
For we do move until
We have left something precious behind.
I am tired of leaving so much of me.
Inside a man's chest there is an archive
Of so many unforgotten things,
And I feel the air there struggling
With every rib extracted like a tooth.
I use to it though
My demise makes so many false heroes,
People who lie to have their own way
And keep the facade of morality still.
I give them their desire voluntarily,
Since I do not cause any such pain
By forcing them to commend my wrongs.
They come back to me again -
Not the flowers and bird song
Not the child left laughing on the shore
Not the dreams like kite strings
Tangled in time's brambled tree.
It is such a weight, the richness of memory.
Old men are stronger when young
Wiser when old
And both still tremble in the shivering cold.
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