Time flies by slowly, steadily... it is like
there is nothing worth rushing for.
Yet every second feels suffocating,
every minute feels longer than the previous.
Waiting slowly kills the feeling
of everything that might, for an instant,
make the day brighter.
Counting the passing days one by one,
suddenly the way it used to be seems
extremely far, distant.
The angst is pulling at every nerve,
playing with every thought,
that perhaps all there was
is slowly going to fade away.
Yet a promise, a few words shortly said,
keep my heart surprisingly at ease.
My sanity strains to survive,
but what can I do,
when all I long for is
to hear your voice.
Filicide is a thing most people
Would rather not think about.
And until this past month
Would rarely even talk of.
Now it’s on everyone’s mind.
They say there are “only” 150-200
Such cases a year in America,
But that doesn’t seem like only a few to me!
The fact 71% are committed by the mother
Also stays beneath the mainstream radar.
I guess we just don’t want to know,
But it’s right there in our face
In our myths and legends and personal stories
(I know I was intimidated by my mother
growing up, always aware she held the true
power and control in the home
and even some degree of omniscience,
and I’m no Sleeping Beauty or Snow White).
Just look at the number of children mothers kill
Before they are even born
(more than a million per year!).
Does that qualify as an epidemic?
An epidemic of what?
Confusion and convenience,
Anxiety and despair,
And above all selfishness.
After all motherhood
Is the ultimate act of selflessness
A doorway of no return.
Which reminds me of all those children.
Now that the sanctity of motherhood
Has been disgraced and debased
Are apple pie and baseball next?
(9/4/26)
BURYING BRAIDED DESPAIR
AND RESURRECTING ASCENDING HOPE
Last night’s dream,
Was as if that sneaking nightmare, despair;
Always teasing the unaware mind
In a wandering, flowing stream:-
Rising today, I took strands of despair,
And braided them into hope-plaits;
I then took those plaits and buried them:
Tears watering their graves:-
Hope budded and blossomed,
As petals of audacious faith glistened:-
And in the bright sunshine of the new dawn’s dawning,
Meadows of forget-me-not also bloomed; and in fields of ourstory,
Butterflies feasted on encouraging truth, rather than lying history;
Cocooning hope now hangs on my mind’s branches of time:-
The hearts I have broken,
The wealth I have lost,
The mess I have made,
It is like I have been living for 300 years.
Oh! The heart is crying out,
the soul guilty, my mind racing,
hopelessly, knowing amendments won't be granted.
I am the lost son of the lost hope,
Sliding on a sea of complications,
Wishing to fly with my fins, dreaming of clouds
but there are always new clouds above the clouds.
Unsatisfied, I learn to laugh.
I laugh with my fellow fish
who learned to draw breath above the sea,
and who stopped crying under the wetness.
I rejoyce, for I am the son of the wind,
blowing away merily but briefly,
no matter how much I carry on my path
I will one day cease and be lost,
remambered shortly then forgotten forever.
Genie, old genie, grant me a wish.
I wish life would get better than this.
For a fortune in happiness,
A lifetime of bliss.
Any life would be better than this.
Dust collecting on the bottle,
My wish so simple, so pure.
Surely it wouldn’t leave me craving more.
Shackles of life,
Ruins in shambles.
You and I are the same—
I, the bottle.
You, the dust.
Trapped.
The feeling of hopelessness and despair,
Trapped by memories
I can no longer outrun.
The loneliness settled like dust,
Covering the dream that once was.
Please grant my wish,
For it is not a long list.
I waited for magic,
I waited for change.
But the dust kept falling,
And the bottle stayed the same.
Scared Mary,
Unprepared Mary,
Incomprehensible yet strangely legible,
Outside of the box in isolation Mary.
New Mary,
Old Mary,
Realities are a kaleidoscope,
Always big vision and big picture seeing Mary.
Spontaneous Mary,
Boring Mary,
Gifted the role of everything and nothing,
Multidimensional experience Mary.
Cyclical Mary,
Unpredictable Mary,
Goggles ethereal with physical on the side,
So strange and unable to be normal Mary.
Selfless Mary,
Selfish Mary,
Fiercely loving and Protective to a fault,
Contradictory and human at best Mary.
Celibate Mary,
Desperate Mary,
A Biological Divine combination,
Big impact but small blip in wider space Mary.
Longing for faith, my soul beneath the veil in grief did pine,
Till Thou didst teach that Grace alone bestows this gift divine.
Nor can repentance bear its fruit, nor contrite tears impart,
Except Thou cast perfect brokenness into the sinner's heart.
In showing me the true beginning of the way to Thee,
Thou humbledst Thyself unto hell's lowest deep;
The fearful gulf yawned wide beneath my wandering feet,
Yet Thou Thyself – the only Way – dost safely keep.
Thy Grace alone sustaineth whom the deeps would claim;
Thou stayest him that else were swallowed in despair.
Thou askest nought but tears in true repentance' name,
And mind made new by holy change and faithful prayer.
From Thee all things receive their life, their breath, their being;
Thou bringest forth from hell, corruption, passion's night;
Revealing purity no mortal thought can compass seeing,
And givest Living Water, lest the seeing soul should die.
May each inhale be Thy cold fire –
Ineffable, unseen, without beginning,
Unchanging, deathless, never to expire,
Intangible, yet all my being filling.
Blessed love can never be despair,
For the Creator knows the heart’s hidden prayer—
Even words the lips refuse to bear.
The thoughts of men are fleeting, vain,
Chasing dust, a dying flame.
But Heaven’s law stands firm, untamed—
Like stars in a soul unstained.
Nothing is darker, nothing as dire,
As spurning the light of God’s own fire,
And calling truth a fleeting shade
That leads where all is lost, unmade.
No horror cuts so deep, so true,
As turning from the light that’s due,
Embracing ghosts that fade to black,
And never, ever lead you back.
If the light inside you turns to night,
How deep then is the dark’s embrace?
When trust in Heaven’s will takes flight,
A blind man walks in endless waste.
None shall see the gates of Grace
Till the heart is cleansed, unveiled,
Till it turns from its defiant way—
And lets the Light inside it stay.
If my despair can sink ships like a storm,
and my shores are consumed by tidal gloom,
like apples spoiled by a devouring worm,
where rot and mind's decay lead to my doom,
then its poison prevents me from relief
and cure—and the escape from manic death!
This weight of sorrow crushes out my life,
and drains from my lungs God's life-giving breath.
But thou, sweet Rose, restore my soul and joy.
(Grant me your healing grace, your balm, your light.)
If fate grants me one more thing to enjoy,
it is your hand that holds me through the night.
Though life's despair may never quite depart,
I live because you hold me in your heart.
Broken promises, broken heart,
Deep within sears the pain,
I trusted your truth from the start,
Instead you tied me to the train.
Drowned in the waves of feelings chained,
Like falling leaves, I am tossed,
Washed upon the shore, colourless and drained,
Unable to reclaim myself, my freedom lost.
Now every memory feels unstable,
I played by your rules, never fair or just,
Your words now just a bitter fable,
Now my life lies in the dust.
Smile and pretend everything is normal,
Laugh so the tears are disguised,
Withdraw deep within the abnormal,
All my dreams are denied.
How do I rebuild for a future?
How can something broken remain?
Can it be healed with a suture,
Or are feelings hardened by pain?
My life is stripped of all meaning,
Each thought pulls me further away,
No comfort is found in dreaming,
As I disappear a little more every day.
I am Despair.
I am the voice you hear demanding you step off that chair.
I am Hope.
I am the voice you hear when you loosen the noose of the rope.
Too much to do looms
like storm clouds above my desk,
heavy with despair
I stare into candle flames
hearing deadlines gnash their teeth.
Within a bubble,
I call avoidance self-care,
hide beneath soft screams;
but my body knows the truth—
comfort loves hiding away.
Encased I feel safe
until the walls grow too close,
air thins, stinks with fear
each new unopened letter
becomes another locked jaw.
Outside, people march
with tired hope in hands and heart,
though bruised, still awake
finding cure for helplessness
inside the struggle itself
I start one small task,
cross one inhibition off;
suddenly my lungs
remember how breathing works
when action enters the room.
Perhaps I’ll own less,
perhaps the world stays unfair,
perhaps love still fails;
yet facing fire head-on
makes the spirit stand up tall.
There’s a despair tax
for caring deeply enough
to keep fighting back;
but the truest form of relief
is to turn around, face it.
Beyond despair and off the pale
Our better day will come
To shed some rain upon the vale
Where you and I are from
It would be nice to see the place
I’ve known so well before
But is it mine, that old man’s face?
A tall slim lady at the door
Is that you, darling? And you say
Of course it’s me, who else?
I’m here again with you to stay
To talk about your health
To tell you news, to sing you songs
To share with you this room
Just look at my new yellow rose
Tomorrow it will bloom!
Why not cry?
When you are soaked and overshadowed,
Why not cry aloud?
Cry to release the pain
Of the poor soul, deeply wounded.
Is it unfair? Is it senseless?
I wonder why, why and why
The pain of a drowning man
Cannot be poured out through tears.
No! Though hopeless and faded,
Please, release it — just cry.
Cry in prayer at Jesus' cross,
And let your pain be relieved.
Let me drown in this bottle
Poverty, loneliness, uncertainty
Let it flood my empty soul
With the bitterness of this sweet liquor
To throw myself into that deep sea
Of promiscuity with bravery and courage
Not to die starving for bread on this journey
Perhaps this way I'll find that sublime happiness
My certificates don't even sustain a sip
For they have no warm backing due to the rain
Rain that flooded my skills and dreams
Reducing them to banknotes worth more than the diploma
[...]
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