Eighteen years have passed me
I still marvel at picturesque clouds
They pass us overhead, with grace, like the ground they face isn’t rotten.

Find me that girl who smiles every day
Exchanging her three am thoughts
Into golden plated words that are beautiful
They belong in her poems.
Sadness stained cheeks covered in blush
She’s so lovely, people think
but she’s just glad her mascara is waterproof.

My grandmother has dainty hands, unlike mine
and I was jealous.
until I realized that they were covered in blood
years before I was born and knew what pain was,
making a living and treating her blisters at the same time.
Six children but it used to be eight before two passed away
“Sofian, he died before your grandfather by a few years”
Her heart broken in half and tears encrusted in her skin
But she still has delicate and pretty hands right?

People say they love one another,
But I can’t even count the knives on their backs anymore,
There are too many.

When I find myself in solitude,
I subsequently lose myself in thought.

You know,
I am ashamed.
These angels that watch us every day
I know they weep at our state
And I am done pretending it’s fine.

This is a world where the ground shakes in anger,
The sky cries out of despair
And the air thickens out of confusion
I am all of nature’s catastrophies
In the shape of a woman.

You will see me in the corner
Praying for lost souls
Including my own
Hoping that one day we’ll reunite in a place
Where words don’t drip blood
And authors find that writing is easier when happy
But for now, we can’t get enough of pretending.

Crash! Smack! Ow!
The chair broke.
Yeow! Galump! Swoosh!
A cat runs away with glue on its tail.
Vroom! Crunch! Grrr...
Dad's motorcycle met its end.
Clip! Clip! Done.
The raspberry patch is no more.
Pop! Wheee! Plop!
A jar of peaches sits on mom's head.
Ahhhh!!!!
She's gonna get us! We're dead!
Two children's little legs dash over the threshold.
HE He he he...

Gurgle, growl, burp,
Tummies are empty.
Whimper, pout, please!
Hush.
We're hungry, we'll clean, we're sorry.
Sigh, reach, hug,
Love.

Intangible like the scent of mist
                                           that was him
Delightful like a thoughtful gift
                                          that was him
Pure as the first tears of a child
                                           that was him
Provoking like revenge fantasies
                                           that was him
Sudden like catastrophies
                                          that was him
Enlightened like the city lights
                                           that was him
Honest like a father's vows
                                          that was him
Vivid like the colored crows
                                          that was him
Distinguished like the sun among all stars
                                         that was him
Detailed like the winter's sky
                                           that was him
The only man that made me cry
                                           that was him

old letters  postcards  color slides
entries in diaries  drafts
of letters maybe never sent
fill boxes after boxes after boxes
left to me by my parents and their ancestors

going through them
I sort out letters  documents certificates
prayer books with scribbles on the margins
school grades  awards  old birthday wishes

of all the photographs I only keep the ones
on which I recognize the faces
those of the strangers I have never known
     and never will
I ditch
together with the many color slides
of mountains I have never climbed
     and never will
and of my parents friends whom I don‘t know
     and never will
with whom they somewhere spent good times

all these were part of my dear parents universe

in my world they mean nothing
have no significance beyond allowing me
to glimpse selected moments of the lives of those
who‘ve come before me and have gone
disappearing quietly
     into the mists of history

leaving blurred views
      as through a frosted window
about their pleasures  loves  anxieties  
catastrophies and tragedies

     enough to tease imagination
     too pale for certainties

hints from the past

why is it
that this day weighs heavy on my mind
though nothing special has occurred
except the usual bad news
     of deaths and fighting and catastrophies
     greed and abominable politics

my private life is safe and fine
remote from all the global strife
it runs a fairly pleasant course
with just occasional disturbances

could that weigh heavily on my mind?

a green silhouette of grey,  towering in secret turmoil
where shadows shuffle past clothed in draperies of U
like the front door of a public house at night time
on moments they stop and peer through windows
as if searching for themselves
and seeing themselves not within
place a hand on each others shoulder
with slender tapered  touch to life
and wander on looking
for the fresh warm rain of belief, any belief
they just don't care
dark as unforgiven justice
neither divine nor temporal forms
shadows that reflect no change
ensure no truth, show no energy to immerse
and this applies no effort to pick their chaos
nor specialised catastrophies
though do marshal devils of distinction
from the ramparts of the night
who dance in crooked form
twisting around the indolence of faces
peering through others windows
howls too for they make such howls
as such the shadows dismiss them
to their own oblivion
the shadows in their old humiliating story
move on still peeping, peeking and peering
but they languish in a wander land
always calm and reasonable
they move on like gassed first world war soldiers
but trembling inwardly with a frightful rage
cursing priests veined with age
who have told everyone's confession
and doctors slowly losing their hair
who never confess their secrets
not even to veined faced priests
and sometimes in a few seconds
these few but precious seconds
before the next window
it is remembered, yes remembered
shadows are the colour of light

I think of you
as I listen to the roar of waves
crashing against the shoreline in
booms and swirls.

I think of you
as I listen to the bubbly giggles
of children playing in the sand
guardians of starlight and sunshine.

I think of you
when ships and guns sink their claws into my island
with warrior after warrior stumbling across our shores
readying for ****** catastrophies.

I think of you
as he slanders a good woman
poisoning his family with hate and cynicism
silently
watching him abuse us verbally and mentally.

I think of you
when my heart is on the verge of breaking
letting tears fall in silent streams
shattered and trying to piece itself together.

I think of you
as birds chatter amongst themselves in trees
sernading my troubles into lovely lullabies
stirring peace within my soul.

I think of you
when I'm cold and my skin turns pale
shaking frozen thoughts
with those of you
happy and smiling.

I think of you.
I remember you.
I miss you...

it is a lovely sunny summer day
and yet the atmosphere feels different

as if a chilling haze had cast a net
over the luscious green of nature
darkened the pond‘s bright sparkles
made flowers droop their faces to the ground
trees sway their branches somberly
people look strangely serious

I guess it is the news that reaches us
along the ether waves
feeds our mobile phones  tvs  and radios
all about deaths  corruption  wannabe dictators
catastrophies  lack of support

no wonder the views of our world
are rather solemn
even on the brightest days