Insignificance is a relative term
The pessimistic thoughts that pass through our heads…
The thoughts that say:
We are not good enough,
We do not matter,
We are insignificant
These are all just thoughts
Controlled by you
A person,
Who can make choices and decisions,
And although you may not be able to change the world as a whole
You can change those insignificant little thoughts
Because a person is more than what you think
They are one of seven billion, but how big is seven billion really?
And the world that you truly live in is made up of much, much less
So the next time you think you aren't enough
Remember that it’s you who controls whether you feel like enough or not.
And when I feel like I’m drowning and I can’t breathe during the day,
And all I want to do is crawl up in a ball in my house and cry and feel and be left alone
I have to be reminded how much I’m worth
Because even if we don’t know it,
We are all worth something
Even if sometimes we make mistakes
Even if sometimes we hurt ourselves to let people know we aren't fine
Even if we feel like we’re nothing
We aren't*
Because although the world is a hateful and horrible awful place full of ignorance and judgment,
There are still lights and halos and happiness and there’s laughter too in there
There’s babies being born, people getting married, and random acts of kindness being done
There are cookies and baklava and puppies
There are young lovers and happy children and sweet singing
There’s music and art and love being made
And although the babies may be still, the couples may get divorced, and the acts of kindness may be empty
The cookies may be burnt, the baklava old, and the puppies dead
The young lovers may break each other’s hearts, the happy children may grow up and the sweet singing stopped
The music may be sad, the art distasteful and the love not true
It doesn't matter because all these things are part of life
And all of these things were done by people
And you’re a person
So I’d say that’s pretty ******* awesome.

1
Sarah and Tim are talking
at the warehouse where they work
“Our new manager’s good –
don’t you think? Bet he’d give me a day off”

“Bet your bottom,” says Sarah


2
And Tim hangs
upside down on the beam
across the ceiling
and the Manager asks:
“Tim, what are you doing?”

“I’m a light bulb,” says Tim
“and I light up
the warehouse”

“You need a break, I think”
says the Manager
“Have the rest of the day off paid;
come back tomorrow”

3
Tim smiles and he goes
and Sarah follows out
And the Manger, puzzled, asks:
“Sarah – where are you going?”

“Oh,” says Sarah,
*“It’s so darned dark in here
since the light is off;
I can’t work
till the light comes back tomorrow”

The setting Sun  in the horizon yet
slowly readying to dip in deep waters
crimson sky with wonderful hallow
birds flying  fast to their abodes
Young boys and girls splashing  water  
Playing throw ball and jumping
and  tucking under high waves  
some swimming in the murky sea,
their loud laughter filling the beach
with joyful  abandonment.

Grand parents driving in  horse carts
youngsters riding fast on horse backs
Camels with  small families on their mounts
Guided by their owners with a whip in hand  
small children building sand castles  
parents overlooking  their activities
and clicking photos  in mobiles
yes,  a Sunday evening to beat the heat
I sat guarding the baggage of my family
Watching all the fun, enjoying  the sea breeze,
with  peanuts in hand, waiting for them  to return.

Suddenly there were shrieks of  people
Children  running  around  and
people  rushing to gather them
calling out their dear ones.
when rain drops fell on my head and face
soaking wet  my shoulders with chillness  
I realized what’s the commotion is all about.

The beach wore a special look all of a sudden  
with a veil of pouring rain …
The fading sunset painted the crimson horizon
With patches of dark clouds decorating the sky
Like ******* beads dangling with pearldrops  
jingling the arena with sounds of joyous music
The sudden downpour filled the air with
Innumerable smell s- stench of fish water
Scents from the crowd, smell from eatable shops
Stink of horse, camel dung, dog **** and trash!

I gathered the baggage trying to protect them
within my arms and covering with  my dress  
running towards a nearby shelter at a shop
turning to see if any one rushed to help me
But the first rain drops mesmerizing them
they forgot me  and their belongings
Dancing and hugging in the first rain,
They were in a joyful world of laughter!

Blustery, and teary-eyed,
we have hopes for this
little child.
We plan her life
with our eyes
and our words
cement reality
as it forms before us.
We have dreams
for this child
who
will be strong and beautiful
and fast and smart
and perfect.
She is the light of the morning.
She is the dawn.
She will over-come.
She will hide behind her father’s pant-leg,
stepping on his feet.
She will wear pig-tails.
She will let her mother
braid her hair.
She will confide.
She will tell you every day
the small details
of her day
and how much she loves you.
She will laugh, cry, cough
your dreams away
and eventually,
she will die.
She will meet the end
with the dignity and grace
of a woman-grown.
Or maybe,
she’ll just get shot.

When they were entangled
in the orange coils of passion again,
she reminded him
of the moonstone.

When he and she were in a band,
at its wild crescendo,
the moonstone had melted,
a molten green fluorescent liquid,
roared in his *****,
she felt the tremor,
the spasms that comes like waves,
to embrace the shores,
wild winds, cloudburst.
"Come deep" she pleads
to him in between.
Winds still in the wings
kept roaring as if the thirst remains,
didn't he see moonstone in her eyes,
an eager glint, unspoken words,
obscene perhaps, erupting from deep?


He ate apples, she had peaches,
she combed her long hair,
with a ritualistic meticulousness.

He  spat the seeds of the fruit.
She stared at him with unbelieving eyes,
at that night,
something strange happened,
the river went dry,
in the morning he saw dead fish
amidst pebbles smooth and round,
shaped by long years of rolling through
the riverbed,  now lying orphaned,
naked without the cover of water.

*She had already left,
was the moonstone yet another myth?