There are so many people. They’ve so many stories. Sometimes they reflect a certain degree of discontentment, and their lips shiver and their eyes… They become wet, and then they let us explore a side of theirs no one ever could. There are so many with the tragedy of partition, there are so many mothers waiting for their son to come home, from that late night party, drooling of disgust, drunk and inebriated, and the strict fathers getting that phone call that their son didn’t make it through the accident.
There are so many lovers trying their best to help the other, the girl with that golden smile, left alone in the dark of the city, waiting to be rescued, and you see from the far away corner of the road, her smile glowing frequently. There are so many grandmothers taking care of their druggie grandchildren.
The echoes of these stories are heard thoroughly by every passerby, and these stories continue to echo, for days and days and years and centuries.
“My son, was the best son.”
“We gifted him a car. It killed him.”
“I loved him, but he left me.”
“Addicts never change.”
And they prevent us from sleeping.
There is and old saying “It’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie” and I am among a very selected few that actually believe this rings true. People say they want the truth but in reality they want you to say what they want to hear.
Maybe it’s me there is problem with, maybe I need to stop being honest with people. I mean what’s the point upfront and honest with people when they would be happier living a lie and having you consign for it. They say ignorance is a bliss maybe that’s why intelligent people go insane, it is truly burden to know and feel so much and know there is no way a good majority of people will ever able to understand, share and or appreciate your thoughts, gestures and opinions. People are so used to other lying and being fake, honesty is now taboo. People look for hidden meaning in words that have none because everyone is so accustomed to bullshit; no one says what they really mean.
One thing you can always count on me for you is to take my words at face value and this is why I now stay to myself. I don’t fit in this society or this generation; I’m not plastic enough.
If we learn to be content with minimal things.
Then we find ourselves feeling rich no matter what life brings.
A man with three meals and a bed is rich to those that go unfed, and he is envied by Those who have no bed.
Contentment is a place that few have seen, we are divided from it by a sea of greed.
Mountains of envy too stand in the way,
“If I only had that” is what we often say
When looking back to all these years, I felt like I was treading through treacle. I have laughed, smiled, cried and winced as I tripped down memory lane. I felt like I was standing in a large cine theater watching someone else’ life, yet, it was mine. What have I learned throughout this lengthy process? I have learned that I finally like me just as I am. You see as I flipped through the photos of my life I saw I had never been to me I was only a shadow of the woman I am created to be. I also saw over recent years I have filled the hurt and voids with so many unnecessary things, which left me constantly feeling overwhelmed. As I let go, the tears may have flowed but a simple truth remained the things most precious to me are not mere things but my family and friendships and these cannot be stored or collected but require daily connection and appreciation. The clutter will never replace our basic human need to be valued and appreciated and share the love we came to earth with. I feel much lighter and more focused on loving those I am blessed to have in my life.
My hope is someday my words are weaponized and used for good.
Poetic weaponry used to discourage hate.
Words that hit the soft places, like a boxer dissecting his opponent.
Combinations and rhythm that quickly catch your attention, but leave you defenseless.
A volley that ends with a period and there’s nothing left to say.
I want the most violent thing a person ever uses to just be words….
Strength is not destroying your enemy, but changing them inside, changing their mind.
“What is love”? is such perennial question. Philosophers, poets and writers , have tried to answer through out the ages, none are able to tell us lesser mortals the answer. It could be the quest of the soul has it journeys through this instrument our mortal body to find perfectness, contentment , ecstasy, euphoria, heaven, utopia, we will never know. We will keep on searching and speculating.