You got out of work at eleven and I was there waiting for you.
Leaning against your car with my arms crossed,
hiding in the shadow of the security camera because no one
should have to see us like this before I made my peace or before
you tried to stop me.
You sauntered over with your hair fixed and your face black
from the powdered metal dust that stuck to your skin while you were doodling
on a notepad waiting for the tumbler to shut up and give you new parts
to start the process.
I've waited and waited for my parts to have back from you after you took them.
To start the process.
To be fine
With your hands in your pockets you angrily backhanded a reply to my fainted "hi"
above the noise of other workers clocking out their time cards,
punch in and punch out
"What are you doing here?"
I didn't think it needed an answer.
But since you questioned and since I've been silently mad for days and since
I'm almost to the breaking point I said something
that I can't remember in this late night, confused memory,
you don't answer my calls and won't look at me and won't talk to me
just keep pushing past and past my presence in your life when you're looking
and in your mind when you're not,
I put myself here.
I put myself where you'd have to see me just so you could tell me
why it is you loved so deeply and left so quickly.
Then my eyes went hazy and my mouth fell sideways as you told me
something I expected to hear that still shocked my soul
because a large part of me that I don't like to admit
was still hoping for the answer I'd been praying for
or the realization of an epiphany you've had over loving me
as only a memory and wishing you could have it that real again.
But you clocked me-
punch in and punch out.
You used me to heal the bad stuff and then parted when you were done.
Parted and left me when you had what you needed
to get through another stubborn year of acting like you love me
but lying because you never really did.
I got in my car and waited at the factory red light
until it turned green and drove the opposite way you were leaving.
I watched the two headlights as they blurred themselves into direction.
I watched you and I knew that I had nothing to come back to.
Just empty words to be said and a desperate attempt
to get back what I thought I had again.
I search and search every day
for that little boy who will play
the strings of my heart like
his favorite guitar
He says his dreams will take him far
as his lips press lightly
on the nape of my neck
He would trek 1,000 miles
just to make me smile
because he says I'm the only
thing that matters much
His past is pained but
that doesn't mean it has to mame
FAME is not what he wants
His maturity never ceases to amaze me
A beautiful contrast to his constant
childlike ability to add light to any room
or give a smile to any star
It's sad that he won't go as far as he'd planned
I must condem him to memory
his freckles and the feeling of
running my fingers through his hair
It isn't fair that he was never there
in the first place
I was born with a name
I wasn't given a choice
The name of the ancestors
generation by generation
the respective name should stay..
As a child I was always proud to say..
My mera nam , my name...
A name I couldn't erase
It'll tag along with me for the rest of my life
Today I have chosen my fate
met someone who changed my world view
my faith and belief changed
my name changed,
am no longer the same
My mera nam is my past
Loving memory of distant relatives
a unique homeland of the ancestors..
will always be missed...
when I reminisce..
I may have a name changed
My lifestyle changed in total
What a life transformation
from ignorance to tolerance
Deep inside me... I shall say
I am pretty much the same old me..
My name is Sharina Saad
Three hot tears rolled down my face
and I think they were what's left of you.
The sky darkened as we drove home.
Somehow, even the locusts knew not to chirp.
In the damp grass the ants did not stir.
I guess that's the trouble with memory.
It makes things static,
makes them malleable,
makes them like
one of those stress-relief stones that you carry in your pocket
and rub with your thumb when you're feeling
lonely or anxious,
all the while boring a whole straight through.
You were solid but not designed to give strength.
You were my favorite mountain.
Nobody could replace you--
Except a new version of yourself.
But even in your Everestine heights,
I did not know you.
A mountain, yes--that is what he must be!
I would have preferred a man,
because when I fell down
you could not bend to catch me.
I hope you eventually forgive me
when I make myself happy outside of your shadow,
but the whisper of a new light
to call me out.
As we pull into the driveway, I slip silently onto my feet.
of black and white
on the face
to my son
Short lives, brief memories......
Nobody knew, but you and I,
How the sun flew to the sky.
T'was long ago, but it is clear,
The memory and truth is here.
One fine night, we walked along,
We whistled and we sang our song.
If I remember right,
T'was always night,
Until we finished our tune.
And we stopped,
The moonlight hopped,
It led us to a pond.
We looked and stared,
And then it flared,
The reflection of the moon.
It was rising near,
The moonlight's tear,
'Til we took a hold of the light.
We tossed it up, into the sky,
And through the air, stars did fly.
Each night as the moon grew fuller yet,
More and more stars we did get.
And finally, on zenith hight,
I let out a little cry,
T'was the beauty of a tiger's eye.
The full moon's face reflected down,
And then we heard a golden sound.
Shimmering, shining, the eye drew close,
The moon flew aside as the beauty rose.
Then suddenly, t'was in the air,
The glowing orb of shine so fair.
We stood and looked and then I said,
"What shall we call what burns overhead?"
After sitting still, and as one,
You said this: "We call it our sun."
And to this day, only we know,
How the sun came to shine and glow.
Only we can be right,
For we know how the sun met the night.
Opposite my chamber window,
What does it mean when my heart wants to sing ?
And laughter cross my mind .
On the sunny roof, at play, two doves on the ledge
Watching me why I play ,
High above the city's tumult,
Flocks of doves sit day by day watching me sing away
My long day at play another day passing by ,
What does all of this mean for doves to watch over me ?
Shining necks and snowy bosoms,
Little rosy, tripping feet,
Twinkling eyes and fluttering wings,
Cooing voices, low and sweet as they can be ,
In this old world we live in , We we're not made to knowing
How to love a darken world ,
Squalling the first two years of our lives ,
In times if we see things like this , so beautiful like these doves
It is something you want to put in memory ,
Graceful games and friendly meetings, with so much singing ,
Do I daily watch and seeing the doves at play !
For these happy little neighbors that I call my own
Puts a smile on my face ,
These Doves always seem at peace ,
On my window-ledge, to lure them,
Crumbs of bread I often strew,
And, behind the curtain hiding,
Watch them flutter to and fro.
My faithful little friends I love the way you play.
smiles glow like mobile little campfires
warming the room
comfy, cozy. home.
you are home in this place, because they're here.
arms wrap around shoulders and hug
you belong here, because they're here.
eyes closed in laughter one minute
sparkling with care the next
you are loved here more than anywhere, because they're here.
you breathe the air and taste the
sweetness of familiar voices,
snuggle into the cadences and timbres
instantly recognizable as
this is a special place,
this place where you belong.
this place where you're together.
like an old favorite blanket
you have given the memory to me
of belonging with you
to wrap around my shoulders and
hug close when I am touched
by the chilling fingers
because I miss it, yes
but mainly because
it is such a beautiful thing
*It would be insensitive of me not to include the other POV, which is that the person who is the inspiration for this poem is lost and a little broken like the rest of us and feels a deep and complete non-belonging, which is tragic because of how readily available belonging is here and because of how easily that feeling can be mistaken from the outside.
If I write these words a hundred time, maybe they'll be true
Chasing each fabricated memory alone
Give me technicolor instead of skies of blue
So I can create a world of my own
Welcome here, welcome dear, here you are secure
In the room I've made for you in my heart
Fantasies of you within my mind will endure
In a dream from which I pray I never part
Lovely vision, oh mixture of mind and soul
I'm fighting to keep you alive
In this reality I feel out of control
Struggling for my world to survive
So let me say these words a hundred times
And maybe a few more just for me
Trading this world, for a dream so sublime
So fantasy will become reality
If I were a song
I'd be the one you'd always play
To start an amazing morning
or to end a dreadful day
The song you hate
when it randomly appears
But also the song you'd love for years
When problem strikes
All you have to do is play
My words don't answer
They give you the map
As melody lights the way
For every nerve racking moment
Your heart follows my beat
Calms you down
Puts you on your feet
Each second can is an hour
Because every memory is replayed
I can be the song that will last forever
I'll be your song if you stay