Candlelit River

It is as if he threw
A thousand candles
From himself
And aligned them so
They drifted
Of many, one
Out of place in the day
But perfectly put
For my naked eye
As I watched them glimmer
And shine and simmer
Calm down Jamal,
Its only sunlight on the river

Reflection

We may live in a balance

The more grief I see

The more love I feel

Sometimes It Snows In May (In Memory of Yen Soh)

As I saw
The tiny cluster of clouds
That held some light
It made me hope
You might be safe again
Sound and found
But the sound of silence
Still pierces our ears
The world just feels a little harsher
Now that you’ve left it
And left us
I have run out of words
To match what we feel
And that screen of memories
Has been playing today
And all of them great
This bittersweet fateful taste
We will never forget your way
Cars like that don’t pass us every day,
And sometimes, it snows in May

Paradise Beneath Your Feet

Mother, Mother
Not even Marvin could sing your worth
No poetic flourish, no Wordsworth
No prose could be so perfect
No writer so competent
No painter so skilled
Why am I still writing?

The arms of a mother
Irreplaceable by the charms of another
No Shakespeare could create a fitting ode
To depict that heavenly abode
Resting beneath your exhausted feet
That earn you a warrior’s reward
For a warrior’s resolve

Pray I feed you one day like I was once fed
And keep me in your prayers
So I walk untouched through the forest of naysayers
Pray I never break away from the warm clasp of your hand
Meditation, the deepest contemplation, I will never understand...
Your worth.

Nano

Still seated
Hand clasps wrist
And that beautiful face
Calm, collected
Although pain may brew
In every vein
It even shows at times
Even as light beams reflect
Off the gold rimmed frames
And glowing skin
Glistening juxta-
Posed to a beneath
That silently screams sorrow
To the avid listener
Myself, this time.

Lessons

I want to know myself

Exegesis of the scholarly work mapped out by my chosen step

Whether they be footsteps or hand prints

Words, conversations; I want to know

To listen attentively to the echoes,

To reap what I can from the sewn seeds of behaviour

Undoing the knots, not possible as such

But to sit, embarrassed being taught by wrongdoing,

Is a lesson I hope I can sit through

High Piano Note

Love
The word alone
I have so much to give
But not one place to target
So I should aim it at everything
At everyone
Let it bleed from me
Cry from me
Drip from me
Let it slip from me
Let it overcome me

Find it between the lines
Of hateful prose
And remember how close
Are the thorn and the rose
Both as real as the other
But only one
Resides near
To hearts
And feelings of love
That rest in hands
And upon lips
Of the fortunate many
Who carry heavy hearts
In their absence
But can walk lightly
In their presence

Those feelings
That may dance
At the sound
Of that high piano note