young and old
When I was young I thought my poetry was an outlet for my sadness
a sadness I did not understand
Now I think it was to cope with confusion and helplessness
could be I still don’t quite understand.
To stand up against the one you love
but have been taught to protect, is heart breaking
Where is empathy
the emotion that brings us closer
you no longer hear me
even when you see me speak
We are far apart
even as we are bound together
Distance between us disturbs relentlessly
One carries the self worth, Once parents in-still in us
it is a curse one does endure for years…
We reflect back what we needed then
in turn clouding up the water for others.
One looks for still waters
to find who we are
the hordes move along to churches and temples
looking into stone
conjuring up a suitable image
like a comfort blanket
for everything not in place.
I have been here all this while
submerged in change
emerging to find how overwhelming change is
Struggling to catch up
with the dream I had drawn.
Now that the dust of the journey settles