The Pond part-2 [Audio Poem]

An unexpected visitor

The bird that sat on her window, it looked familiar as if it belonged to a different place

She can see that the city was not his place

Maybe he followed her train to where the trees don’t grow

Where the cars’ noises block the voices in her head

She can no longer hear her best friend—the inspiration

Looking out of her cold studio apartment’s window, she can’t see the stars

Her lover’s words resonate in her ears, he was right—she misses counting the bright pins in the sky

That yellow cheerful bird’s singing covered all the other noises around her

She wondered if he had been a messenger, if he carried a letter from The Pond for her

Although her apartment stood high above the man-made trails beneath

It was no match to the mountain she used to live on,

The broken kitchen counters that he’d promised to fix,

The cotton filled pillows, the wooden chair he proudly carved.

She closes her eyes humming with the bird, harmonies she once knew so well

She can smell it, the pond’s stench—what she hated and loved so much

But it escapes her before she can capture it; she wished to paint it on her pale grey wall

The memories were too old, and the paint has run dry.

Advertisements

Optimistic View

I have witnessed a dictator’s death due to his own greed
Continue reading “Optimistic View”

The Pond, Part 2

An unexpected visitor

The bird that sat on her window, it looked familiar as if it belonged to a different place

She can see that the city was not his place

Maybe he followed her train to where the trees don’t grow

Where the cars’ noises block the voices in her head

She can no longer hear her best friend—the inspiration

Looking out of her cold studio apartment’s window, she can’t see the stars

Her lover’s words resonate in her ears, he was right—she misses counting the bright pins in the sky

That yellow cheerful bird’s singing covered all the other noises around her

She wondered if he had been a messenger, if he carried a letter from The Pond for her

Although her apartment stood high above the man-made trails beneath

It was no match to the mountain she used to live on,

The broken kitchen counters that he’d promised to fix,

The cotton filled pillows, the wooden chair he proudly carved.

She closes her eyes humming with the bird, harmonies she once knew so well

She can smell it, the pond’s stench—what she hated and loved so much

But it escapes her before she can capture it; she wished to paint it on her pale grey wall

The memories were too old, and the paint has run dry.

Reflections

Occasionally, I see astonishment in her eyes
After hours in front of the mirror
There’s grief in her face and a wilting in her soul
As if she’s met herself for the very first time
She saddens
Loses the words
She loves that one in the mirror—not herself
I want to go into that world, she says
I want to be where this beauty is
There, left is right
There, wrong is right
There, dawn brings comfort
There, everything is changeless
There, silence ceases screaming
And peace is infinite
Now glued to the mirror, her expression changes
Up close, she finds herself
She finds the loneliness that bent her spine
She sees lines of pain on her face
Sadness defines her being
Pulling away, she again sees just a beautiful reflection
And is content to be back—back where others see her
Not so close