Red. Scarlet Red.
Like the colour of their blood.
A horror, lies in Flanders Fields,
between the rows of us.
We ask not for mercy,
just to remember what befell,
and through the sea of ruby red,
a story we must tell.
We are a mark,
a reminder,
a memory,
telling tales of courage
and men who paid their debt.
And beneath the days of golden rays,
we vow: “lest we forget.”
Tag Archives: spoken word
Learning
I am learning,
slowly
to be okay with the things
that I am not okay with,
loose endings
broken friendships
with no reparation in sight.
I am learning to let go
and not hold on so tight,
to let memories be
instead of thinking of them
tainted.
What’s done is done.
What’s past is past.
There is no use in looking back
for it will do nothing to help you move on,
when yesterday us gone.
The only direction is forward.
Perspective is all we gain from hindsight,
watching the road in the rearview mirror,
seeing how far we’ve come
and of how things might
look different
be different
if we had made different choices
and taken different roads,
said ‘no’ instead of ‘yes’,
and ‘yes’ instead of no,
knowing when to keeps our mouths
closed.
Loose lips sink ships
and I have sunk a few,
accidentally with excitement
and wanting people to talk to.
I did not think of the consequences,
and was blind to the unforseen circumstances,
until the rose-coloured glasses
shattered upon my eyes,
and I saw things for how they are,
not how I wished them to be.
I am learning
to be okay with refusal of apologies,
for my actions
though I have tried to apologise
but perhaps I am already
the villain in some people’s eyes,
more than I realise.
I am learning to be kay
with the silence.
Silence is serenity,
sometimes necessary,
and often tells you everything you need to know.
Perhaps the things that bother me now
will not matter in a year, or so
and they will be just memories of their own.
I am learning every day,
how to be better and kinder,
to know what not to say
and to say to whom,
to sit with these feelings that feel overwhelming
and feel them,
in the hope that someday soon
they will shrink and dissolve
and disappear into the ether.
Who am I to know?
I am learning
that things change
and so do people,
and sometimes the greatest thing you can do for people
is change yourself
when you have become someone that is not authentic
and you are not the person you know you are,
when you hate the human being you’ve become.
I am learning that learning is constant
a constant, ongoing, evolutionary process.
To learn is to progress.
Mistakes are a part of learning too,
and to learn from them and start anew
is to bloom,
from bud to flower,
phoenix from the ashes,
all over again.
Untitled: 4
I am old enough to have known better,
so why didn’t I?
Am I too trusting?
Am I just naive?
Am I an idiot?
Am I all three?
Sometimes it feels like it,
at least,
recently.
Long Roads
The road is long
and sometimes
hard to follow
and disappears among the fog
or lost beneath a blanket of snow.
The winding bends
and dead ends
seem unnecessary
and pointless
and more hassle than the journey is worth.
But every turn
leads to the straight and narrow,
the wisps of fog clear,
and sunbeams melt the snow,
leaving behind
a brighter and clearer tomorrow.
We are the stars
Trust in the power of the universe,
for we are all made of the cosmos.
We are made of matter.
Though we feel inextricably small
in the scale of things,
we matter.
Wildfire
Dangerous
deadly
hazardous to the environment
a simple carless spark, spreading
a perfect solitary paradise
engulfed in flames
thick clouds of charcoal smoke against the azure sky
as it burns for days, weeks, months on end
merely a shadow of what it was
of everything it used to be
blackened
broken
barren
burned beyond recognition
the debris of ash and dust
a mark of devastation
destoryed by wildfire,
lost forever.
Eclipse
Two halves
dark and light
finally equal
for the first time.
Abyss
You’re surrounded
covered by darkness
like a blanket
but it is not warm
or comforting.
It is cold,
like shards of rice ripping through your skin
deeper and deeper into your soul
drawing you in
until the light fades
and is replaced
with the nothingness,
the abyss.
Untitled: 3
I saw you drive by my house this morning
and I felt that familiar feeling
that knot in my stomach
that elevated heartbeat
that I used to get
when I knew you were coming to see me.
I think about you all the time,
in the most uninteresting moments,
because my mind wanders and I wonder
are you thinking of me too?
Do you tell stories about me
of the things we used to do together?
No, of course not…
but, do you?
I thought about dialling your number
but I decided against it.
Sometimes, the past is meant to be left behind.
Keyboard Warrior
You hide behind
a computer screen
because it’s easier to be mean
when you cannot look your victim in the eye
when you cannot see
the damage you are causing
to their body
to their mind
and you don’t even think twice.
You type and type and type and type
out of jealousy or strife
your fingertips slamming every key
like a perfectly
rehearsed performance
because it’s not just one
or two shows you have played
the whole world is your stage
but you are
a disgrace to your name
or hang your head in shame
as you exclaim
that the battle has barely begun
but you do not care
about the already irreversible damage
your words have done.
Enchanted
I am enchanted by his magic smile
that turned me weak at the knees
his slicked back hair
and his gravelly morning voice
and the way he walked
with his hands
in the front pockets of his jeans.
I am enchanted by his corny jokes
and his childish banter,
his love of black and white movies,
and his captivating charm
that reminded me of James Dean.
I am enchanted by the look in his eyes
every time he looks at me
and the way my name
rolls off his tongue.
In a world of unfaithful, adulterous men,
he is
a gentleman.
The Trouble With Love
The trouble with love is
we give it away too freely,
to people who do not deserve it
because there is an expectation
for us to love the ones we came from,
even though they have done us wrong
in more ways than one.
We give it to hearts where it is unrequited,
who do not treat it like the gift that it is,
for to love someone completely
is to give all of yourself to them
your light and darkness
with an understanding that it is delicate,
like the petal of a freshly bloomed flower.
The trouble with love is that it is not rational –
we fall into it too deeply
and fall out of it too quickly
or sometimes never fall into it at all,
merely teetering on the edge of ‘like’
for adoration does not come easily to us.
It crushes and destroys the essence of our being
as we crumple beneath its weight
until we slowly regain our strength
with lessons learned
and hard hearts earned.
We worry that we do it wrong,
for what is love to us
may not be love to someone else
our forever after all,
our in sickness and in health,
is not a tether shared
nor is a heart spared
the pain of this realisation.
The trouble with love
is the pressure
society puts on us to find it
romantically
as if we as human beings are not complete
without another soul
to accompany us on this journey.
We buy into this pressure
entering into relationships
situationships
cohabitation
with people who are not meant for us
at times when we are not ready
as a way to be ready
to answer all of the questions they will ask
about our futures
of rocks on our fingers
and the cries of an infant
as if both of these will give us purpose,
meaning.
We know they don’t meant it
at least,
not in a way that offends us.
They are simply a product of their generation
where gender roles were at the forefront of a partnership
and though most are open minded
to the way that things have changed
there is still a sense of
them being stuck with the same
ideas and ideals
that they always have been.
Love has progressed. To love is progress.
And yet we cling to the idea that we are failing,
sinking,
if we have not found the one person
whom we call the love of our life,
our everything.
We are conditioned to believe that this is the love that matters
when all that really matters
is that we are loved
by the people who have raised us
nurtured us,
empowered us,
held us while we have cried
witnessed our becoming
and our unbecoming,
those who have been there by our side
for our entire lives
whose love does not come with conditions
and we do not have to prove ourselves
or be anything we’re not,
because it is not judgmental
and cannot be forgotten.
Can it?
We become so focused on finding love
that sometimes we forget
love has already found us
in more ways than one,
and though it cannot kiss us passionately
or propose marriage
perhaps it is the only love we can truly depend on,
the kind of love that
no matter how much we take it for granted
will never leave.
But still, the problem with love is that we are too blind to see,
that sometimes the love we have with us already
is all the love we might ever need.
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