THE HUMAN ANVIL

Tag: religion

  • Remains of the Rain

    Image by Mehrsad Rajabi@unsplash


    I saw my children standing in the rain
    Their faces lined with age and late reason
    Watched the abandoned bicycles
    And broken seesaws
    Being pulled down by the weight of raindrops
    Their hands, long and thin, like dead seaweed in the summer wind
    Their legs green and gold, like new leaves suddenly old
    Seemed painted
    In the moist color of quiet
    The abandoned delight
    Having dissolved
    In the lament of the rain
    They turn; the motion a sad song
    An unfinished lullaby
    To look at me with eyes
    Half awake but never asleep
    As if I with my window earned wisdom
    Would know
    Why all things grow
    Only to die
    If life in the very virtue of living
    Is a lie
    But they know the answer
    As well as me
    It is better to forget than to believe what we see
    In the everyday aftermath
    Of the daily demise
    Of choices left to chances
    And promises made before goodbyes
    For in the end all paths
    Shall return where they began
    Even the oceans with all their eternity
    Are but remains of the rain…

  • Death, Dear Friend

    Image by Dave Hoefler @ Unsplash

    Death, do not cry
    I know; you are no one’s friend
    But that does not make you; a foe
    Like all who have been and are being swept away
    Like a clove leaf upon a current
    You too are destined by design
    To sow and grow; sorrow
    That abandoned thistle tree
    Which all passes and pretends not to see

    Death, do not cry
    When your choices go wrong
    There are so many voices asking
    To add another verse to their swan song
    But you know as do I
    That music is sweet only for so long
    And it starts with no cymbals and shall end with no gong

    Death, do not cry
    People do care about you a lot
    You may not always be the fountainhead
    But you are almost always an afterthought
    And we may not think of you as we breathe
    Or when we play the games of Holy Land
    But we do rehearse our union every night
    Though not all of us understand

    Death, do not cry
    We shall meet for once and forever
    But before that I must ask an honest, humble favor:
    Of all the places for us to meet
    And greet, if you could visit me when I am fast asleep
    Then there shall be nothing for me to weep
    As I skip; the curtain call of my every emotion
    And be like a nameless raindrop falling into an aimless ocean

  • Light From Another Star

    The tommorow lingers far,
    Like light from another star,
    And there is mist,
    With eyes in the middle,
    That speaks with tears,
    Of smoke and tar.

    I talk not of human,
    And their negligible nuisance of narcissistic necessity,
    Nor of the world with it’s viscous veracity,
    I speak of nectar, world of gods,
    Poets and paramours, artists and art,
    Of the innumerable sand,
    Dreaming upon the beach,
    And those stars falling every night,
    Who never truly reach.

    I speak of the brilliant acting dumb,
    The sensitive roughened numb,
    Blind men holding hands,
    Children without a stand,
    And oasis with scarlet seas,
    Gold honey, dead bees.

    I invoke the untamed,
    I call the wild,
    Into this land of frozen blood,
    Where once were sowed diamonds,
    Now remains but dried mud.

    I know, my voice is hoarse,
    And these sharp words are truly coarse,
    For I too am of your kind,
    The omniscient God without a mind.