It used to be
view from the bridge
I jumped and
sank deep
in the murky waters
but
somehow I survived
now it is
beneath the bridge
I find shelter
cigarettes are not
a given
but come and go
sex happens here
haphazardly
condoms litter the
shoreline
needles needlessly
decorate the wooden palings
reality is vague
clearly we need to
regroup
ashamed I shop for
empathy
it is not easy to find
but the harsh reality
of life kicks in
and I am happy to be
who I am
are you?
Any great undertaking is an uphill task
That demands a great amount of work
It is not cutout for hesitant individuals
Only the courageous can take-up cudgels.
Life is a journey from womb to the tomb
That needs to be explored and recognized
To understand it is apparently simple but
In reality it is a relentless toil and effort.
The inward expedition is even more baffling
For it is a strange search wherein the seeker
Seeks the sought which is truly astonishing
Hence the exercise is rightly awe-inspiring.
Among the millions, few have the nerve
To attempt this strangely inward flight
Not yielding to the wayside temptations
Demands penance of countless births.
It is hence not meant for the feeble weaklings
For the journey is arduous with full of palings
Only the valiant with single-minded firmness
Justify the criterion to walk on a razors edge.
Syringes in fence palings
condoms on park benches
street sweeper drinks whiskey
at four in the morning
opera house silhouettes
the bridge of dawn
first ferry tugs out
rust and ropes
like stale sex
herald the rising sun
Circular Quay swims
with grey suits
and mid length skirts
dark stocking like
instep, to the beat
of yesterday.
palings of a stockade
looking out for death
dislocation of aggression
under estimating the brutality
of wars we cry helpless
majority of democracy
brainwashed by the cruel
minority clamouring for
power to wipe out the
security of thoughts
we are praying for
them now here
on three legs
fasting
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