If pain was a friend instead of a burden
– if I could make peace with the unwelcome
– if perhaps I could see her as a teacher,

not in a lecture theatre (distant and with sharp echoes),
but in a private tutorial with soft furnishings
and perhaps a vase of flowers.

– If her lessons came with handouts,
exploring, with pictures, the reason for the searing,
the overwhelming

– but no,
my pain is that annoying parent on a pointless trek,
refusing to stay silent,
incessant in her insistence
that we can’t part ways.

In every waking moment, I seek the wretched past
Sleeping and dreaming seem to be a blur
I want an escape from the chaos of my mind
But let me tell you a rhyme nonetheless

The shadows of the incoming evening cool the forest
Like lights glinting through the trees in Ranthambore
Hunters with their rifles and bruises
Have the tiger in their sights, I am silenced with the muzzle

Like the blind, we tracked our way
I am free knowing this day
We followed the jackals and nilgai, out we went
I am veering at every shot, alive, as the raven quiver

Now my lips are shaking and trembling
My heart rushes with its warmth slowly ebbing away
It pumps dreams into my bloodstream, raising itself
Until I am shattered, scrounging for the illusory past

I am filled with regret, maybe I am unable to express
If you read this through and through
You know the power of hunger and desperation
Let's just say I played the cards just like you

I am grateful that I took it easy on myself
Life and sleep seem to be a blur
In a land where the people are blind
I am glad I can see now, where I went wrong

My mind has closed in itself
I know I will miss my Ranthambore
My childhood will miss the search
I will miss it all but I am glad I lived through it all

A warm embrace
Or so they thought

Warm at first
Then it got hot

Piles of blankets
Suddenly smothering
Stuck inside
Until you
Die

I want to leave
But I like the pain
Forgetting the hurt
What goes on in my brain.

I found a way out
Though a little late

Turns out the door was always open
I just didn’t check the lock

Stepping out onto green grass
Reminds me of an old poem I wrote

The first steps take a while
My feet are cold
But I try and smile

After what feels like forever
I look up
And I’m not alone anymore
My heart
Will not
Feel
Sore

That old door
That I thought was locked

Has disappeared.

I won’t go back
To the place I thought was home
For now I know what love is

I am Sophie
I am Max
I am an artist

Monster boy is facing the real world for the first time
Turns out he’s doing okay
And he can still rhyme.

Wonder what adventures will come next
Sophie doesn’t know
And neither does Max

But they’re excited
For the trek.

No longer perplexed.

Poised to succeed
In all of your dreams
You have the support
And the means
Endured a painful trek
Metamorphosed from a disdainful wreck
But you’d rather be something else
Than a large paycheck
All the agonies
Pursued through wistful blasphemies
Have led to naught
But a sorrowful eucatastrophe
Because you have bills due
Things to live up to
It’s wishful thinking
Wanting to paint the skies blue.

Because all other women (Kingdoms) are weakness; the kingdom of God is built on wisdom for all. Equality in the pursuit of happiness even by the constitution of the state of Florida in retrospect: Justice is not for sale, denial or delay. All men are created equal and the bar was created not to deny these rights but to protect them as ruled by the Supreme court and under the supreme Law of the land; the United States Constitution. As given by divine providence and nuture's God. The nature of the state of mind and the deeds of the mouth spoken from the heart. Evil triumphs when good men do nothing and for this reason governments were instituted just as moses gave the sermon on the mount. America the beautiful promised land given by God in the divinity demonstrated by Jesus and the famous 4 score and 7 years ago even today. Christ Jesus stood at the crossroads of faith truth Justice and the American way to deliver us this beautiful nation of nations so many have taken for granted today although his banner still waves. ;)

Now they are memories
like silver threads in a gliding tapestry
how wondrous feeling and smelling the sea breeze
the aromas and excitement of the market
the cool magnificence of the mountains
in late autumn on the brink of winter.

These travels and their newness
still dance in my head
but even now my gut clinches
remembering the effort and focus
on preparations each day.

It’s the dark side of the coin
sadly evoking shame
to even mention it
a blotch in the snow
on the marvelous trek north.

But write it I must.
I wonder if it take courage
to be pitiful in public,
but maybe that’s what poets do
undress in front of everyone.
It is the stuff of nightmares
and here I am doing just that.

On the other hand…

How sweet the peace
and routines
back home
sitting calmly writing
looking out on the back yard
the tallow trees coloring
preparing to shed a variegated carpet below.

Maybe it took travel
to help me appreciate
the beauty of
these serene moments
at home.

Marching ahead
Broken paths we trek
Dare we try again?
Onward, Homestead

Let us trudge ahead
And never bow our heads
Even in death
We’ll make it to the Homestead