I look upon the devastation
it's totality, serene
Nothing left for preservation
every nook and cranny, clean
No vestiges of life
no hint of joys or pains
An apathy of strife
no light within, remains
every speck of dust
Over critiqued, penalized
unable too, adjust
To mark a date and time
where such a thing occurred
Or who would claim the crime
the memories now, are blurred
I am what I have made
of this there is no doubt
The reaper has been paid
my inward eye, turns out
my mother sees purple
because purple lives on her flesh.
she has stains
from shoulders down.
they scatter across her back
like pressed grapes.
the juice squeezed out of them
to create a rich man’s wine.
they wrap around her legs
like grape vines.
pulling her closer to the ground
with each step.
she hides them.
when men approach her
“quiero que me ames.
my body has rejected me
and even in the womb
i was mutating.”
the men love her face.
she is a woman who does not age.
they say to her
“tu eres morada.
to love yourself you must
accept the color.”
so they have all added
new shades of purple
to her body.
i think that is why
my favorite eyeshadow color
I found solace in the darkness
that has robbed me of my freedom.
The darkness that feeds off of me
when I am nowhere near light.
It dictates my inner most fears of
lingering in the shadows of my own being,
yet lighting a path to my incendiary fate
that I know I can suffer for eternities in
the hellfire of my mind.
But the rain rocks my windows, and thunder claps
against my ear like a game in our room of heaven and hell.
It rattles my inner most being, and the strings that
tie me to my friends and family sever themselves
in the fall of twilight. From that, I know,
darkness has robbed me once again of light.
It’s a bitter fate I had the opportunity to accept;
darkness was then a conformity that I lived with.
My place of dwelling. And from letting this darkness
inhabit me for so long, I have come to love it. I have come
to live with it, for without darkness, light will be no more.
I have learned to love such a feared part of me. A loathed
part of me. I’ve seemed to forgotten it even existed along with me.
Darkness was but another part of me that couldn’t exist without
the light. I was given a chance to live in this world, and I would live. I will live. But life comes before death, and tragedy comes in the middle of our peace. Darkness is just but one of them I have come to accept.
fire engulfing the combustibles
the soft flickering of red and orange sparks
gentle, but powerful
the smell of charred oak filling my nose
a wave of light, one after the other
lingering warmth on my skin
as if i could ever replicate
what it felt like to be beside you
fire provides us warmth, light,
perhaps a vague sense of security in the hardest nights
but come too close,
and the fire
under the leaves
after the rain.
It gave me
that the shadows
of those leaves
Up the sky,
I can see
but it doesn't
The chilling wind
carried the scent
of the muddy soil
beneath my feet.
It reminded me
of all the devastation
by the storm.
When it gets dark and the lights start to fade
You lock the door and we hide in the shade
The smoke of your cigarettes is filling the room
My paradise is hell and your heaven is doom
Afraid of the height we get on this flight
Scared of the monsters we go out in the night
Joyfully facing the heartache and pain
Hoping that the pilot won't crash the plane
Devastation and love are so close together
Better laugh because crying won't make it better
Dry your tears, baby, for as long as you
Can die with your soulmate everything's good
I was happy once
So happy to be alive
So happy to be me
Now my heart's broken
I'm on the floor
Too scared to push the knife deeper into my skin
When did it all go wrong?
When the people you trusted
The ones supposed to be the most important ones in your life
Are the reason for your devastation
Is it your fault?
Pity him, or her...pity them
Pity those victims of devastation
Pity the children...those abandoned babies
But it is not enough...
Please...do something beyond pity.
Pity those in extreme poverty,
Suffering from incapabilities...
Pity those with agonizing hearts
Because of missing body parts
Marred, disfigured, debilitated
But, it is not enough
Please...do something beyond pity.
Pity even those with aching hearts
Devastated, with broken hearts
Who find it difficult to heal
Believe again, a cruel world, so real.
Be guided,in reflecting,
There are others more deserving,
Beware of those who are self-serving
Know who are in most need of caring
Know that, beyond pity, there's more to be done
Much can be done...If we all try to be one.
Copyright April 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
#abandonedbabies #abusedchildren #molestation #devastation #incapabilities #pity #npmimportant