I've been too used
to waiting
it has defined
my life
yet it still remains
in my thinking-
it is a virtue
most worthwhile

for immediate
or quick satisfaction
is not my pick-
it only does belong
to the spoilt child

there's the sweet
looking forward
to a brighter dawn
with the promise
grace will adorn:

I'll hold on
to the waiting
even if
I've to walk
the longest mile

I am so tired…. But Its not a lack of sleep. Its emotional, mental, physical the loss runs deep.
Standing on the edge of hope and hopeless choosing between blinding pain and numbness.
My head hurts, my stomach is twisted in knots. My body has a physical response  and i am not calling the shots.
Wish i could turn it off but the damage is done.
I have changed irrevocably from the battles lost and won.
Tiny fissures left open scream out and bleed. At best i slap on a bandaid ignoring the real need.
At times i stop and survey the path i am leaving of blood and tears. But i force myself forward in spite of the fears.
Just Keep moving ignore the pain, the alarms screaming survival is the game.
Dodging bullets, walking on eggshells, being a wall and a shield. Trying not to lose myself in the mass casualties on the field.
I feel the heavy pressure of walking this line. Burdened by a choice between true peace and everything is fine.
If only i was the only one who had to pay for my choices. But i bear the weight of those other helpless voices.

When she could bring the sun and fun
after surviving rains and pain,
that’s so tropical!
When she dances with the storms,
sings with the winds and their howls,
that’s so pacific!
When she steps out smelling like the ocean,
smiling, looking like the sunset,
she’s so tropical!
When she writes poetry out of tragedies,
takes lyrics and proses from calamities,
that’s so pacific!
When she smells like coconuts and mangoes
after cutting off people and letting them go,
oh, how tropical!
When she sways along with the palm trees,
instead of sulking down on her knees,
that’s so pacific!
The sun and storms,
the rains and fun,
the dances and the winds,
ah, how tropical!
The oceans, the calamities,
the tragedies, the poetry,
the coconuts, the people,
the mangoes, the palm tress,
so, so, tropical!

Eyes that burn with a quiet fire,
heart that shines like solid gold.
You are a light to my constant darkness,
the one I did not know I was looking for.