Is only a name.
But naming is
Like timing,
Spacing,
Teasing
Loving -
A carving
In chaos.

© LazharBouazzi, February 14, 2017

The old man mumbles in a dying voice
had my sons been alive.

A tear wells in the daughter's eyes.

She pours a spoon of water in his mouth
and wipes his lips and her eyes.

Having lit the pyre of his three sons
he was willing to barter his daughter's life
if that made God grant him another son
and here is the daughter by his bedside
feeding, cleaning and even shaving him
her only prayer to God being to save his life
bartering her entire means.

Outside the thunder cracks the sky
and she spreads a tarpaulin over the bed.

my son laments the father.

Inside her is no cover for rain.

In the depths of nothingness

I discover I am nothing.

Love is all.

Memories come upon one
Like a sneaker wave
Dragging you under
And up into the spin cycle

Many moments
Many names
Many times through memories
Unchanged

The deepest loves
The most painful hurts
Never to be unchained

Emotional visions
Briefly three dimensional
And rushing back out
Into the riptides of
unconscious seas

It gives one pause
To remember
And believe
it really
Happened to me.