Author: strangerpaths

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things. I am Zee

True Power

I find pieces

Among the ashes that were left

Too small to truly tell

But I knew it’s where I sat

Gathering stories

Making believe

That I could escape

That I would leave

I find pieces familiar, yet strange

For I have wandered far

And with time

I grew to love change

I learned that without those pieces

I’m still whole

Shedding them off had failed

To make me feel small

The earth gives me power

And I, like you, little flower

Have learned to push the concrete aside

Have learned that I no longer need to hide

And I came to know my true power

Winds and Memories

This familiar wind

Hot and dry

Carrying pieces of my old self

As it hurries by

And smells that no longer exist

Perfumes no money could buy

This familiar wind

Carries pieces of my old river

Euphrates

Reminding me of nights spent together

Eating ice cream

Watching the candles light up the stream

Making wishes

Dreaming a dream

This wind passes much too quick

And I rush looking for a jar

Or a bottle

I want to save you

For my selfish reasons

And trap you

Like the memories that trap me

In a place that I no longer know

If it still exists

If it could resist

The bombings and the shootings on a small town

How could you, wind, turn this around

And take me to a moment of peace

As I float

Another piece

Of history

That no one remembers

Organic matter

That’s easily recycled

Easily blended

Easily camouflaged

Between the wind and the sand

I reach out my hand

As if to hold yours

My old self

You did good

You escaped that neighborhood

Where no child, or adult

Was safe

Where bombs did not discriminate

Stuck between love and hate

You soared far

And maybe you have the winds to thank

Or a God somewhere

Watching a dreaming child

And allowing her to yet dream

Oh how these dreams have changed

How your life has changed

Old self

You did great

Alien Hopes

I was hoping for an alien invasion

Maybe then

The question of

“Where are you from? “

Could be easier answered

And I could say

“Earth”

And no one would follow with

“But where were you born”

I was hoping for an alien invasion

So I could no longer be called an alien

Such as my luck

No alien cared to make my hopes true

And I still look at you

Unable to speak

The language I grew up

Speaking

A Tree’s Memory

She remembered a sky glowing red

Noises in her head

Figures that screamed

Others that whispered

And some that bled

She remembered joyful wonder

Cries of surrender

Stars that wept

Nights when she slept

On a warm earth

Nothing else beneath

No sheets no shields

She remembered before she was this magnificent tree

She was a woman

Wondering what she’ll be

When this earth turns to dust