Carefully, she placed each brick
Built the walls, fixed the gates
Locked the latch, hid the keys.

Nervously, she touched her heart
She put the keys, where they belonged
To tear her walls, you need her heart.

In her heart, below the trust
Beside her love, lies the key
You get the key, you get the rest.

Find the key, pick the latch
Open the gates, tear the walls
And destroy the carefully placed bricks.

~Moniba.

What do you do
When your heart yearns for one thing
And your brain wants another?
You listen a little bit to both.
But what do you do
When it is your heart that is in dispute
A half wants one thing
And the other wants another
Is it better to do then neither
Or is it better to mute them both
And listen to the conscience?

What do you do
When your conscience goes to war
With your heart and your mind?
You listen to the majority.
But what do you do
When you know the minority to be true
Because in fact, the heart is forever
In love with the conscience.
It is the mind, the mind it is
That tricks the heart
Into believing that
It is in quarrel with the conscience.

So what do you do, really?
You be a good human
And listen to the conscience.

~Moniba.

Black crows, circling the sky
Beneath dark clouds, alone they fly

Coconut trees, with lush green blades
Swaying leaves, and trunks with plaids

Gravel, marked with tire tracks and stones
Footsteps strange and familiar it owns

Along the road, a light turns on
A swing set, a porch seat, a life is born

And here sits the poet, watching with awe
Looking with her pen, writing what she saw

~Moniba.

The little girl clutched her balloon tightly
Careful not to let it go.
She loved it and wanted it to stay with her
Forever.
Alas, she clutched too tightly,
The balloon flew up to the ceiling of the room.
Horrified, she looked. Determined, she climbed
One height to another, to get her balloon.
Stretching her tiny hands out, she reached the string.
And just when she had it, she fell.
From height to floor she fell
Hurting her fragile frame.
The balloon in her hand, she braved the fall.
And just when she smiled
The sweet smile of success
Her balloon burst.
Her face fell.
The child grew up.

~Moniba.

Life chased him, he ran.
It tackled him, he fought.
It teased him, he burned.
It punched him, he blocked.
It retreated, he followed it.
Until, he embraced it.
And then, life was okay.

She said she liked uniting black and white.
To wash the black with the purity of white,
And to swipe the white with black, and make it invincible.
Once and for all.
I told her she was prejudiced.
That white wasn't pure, and black wasn't evil.
That they were colours that,
When united, make grey.

~Moniba.

Every time she sins
Her heart roars in protest
Every time she sins
It dies a little
Every time she sins
It bleeds a little
Every time she sins
She muffles its voice
Every time she sins
She pushes it under
Every time she sins
Her heart cries
And every single time
She wipes its tears
And persists.