will you roam with me

The melody is back with me. The songs I hear when I walk amongst the most secret places. The meandering paths that lead me to self discovery, lead me to make promises I mostly will not be able to keep. The narrow walkways and wide avenues that trick me into making grandiose statements, trick me into confidently believing. The streets I tread on are filled with wondrous musical notes once again. The streets never lost the music, they lost me. The streets where sins are laid, where burdens crack the surface have lured me back to where I belong.

I see the fault at every cross, at every carefully orchestrated seamless intersection. I drag my feet through miles of filth and I hear the whimpers of injustice echoed from the loudspeakers scattered around every strategic corner. Still the music makes me fly. It brought me here. It brought me home. Now there’s a more sentimental relationship between these streets and me. The absence has tarnished the hateful sights, erased the memories that made me want to escape. Never would I leave, never would I leave you. The weakness in a moment saw me sigh with disappointment, saddened by the state of the beloved place. One comfortable reset sends us back to a time when we can start to write something new. We are yet to see where it takes us.

The power in each gently vibrating musical note forces me to quicken my hasty steps then halts me abruptly, dangerously in the middle of a traffic filled street. I let myself be guided by whatever force takes hold of me. In peaceful weightlessness I cling to the past and welcome the unforeseeable future. The past I know has been unkind at times and that I must forgive. The future I know will scrape the healthy flesh off my skin, embalm me with petty disagreements, drape me in hateful cynicism. But in an unsuspecting corner of these wicked streets, a kind stranger will wrap me in endless grace. Then the stare and smile of the envious will lay upon my halo graced head. I will fall into the evening and all these wars will come to an end.

I have missed you these streets of mine. I have missed the music, the guide that helped me take my young and inexperienced heart through the winding alleys. Braveness I have never sacrificed for weakness. Meekness I have never betrayed for strength. Without forgiveness I cannot exist. I take what I am given, stripped of traces of identity, I still know full well who I am. Show me how you would paint your world, the world in which your music and your streets exist intertwined, inseparable. I am grateful for the music and for the streets. For the humility I have been taught. For the weightlessness I have been fortunate enough to have experienced. In the hope of a better, kinder tomorrow, I stare into the moon for as long as these notes, these letters, these thoughts, these feelings, these truths lasts.

For me you last forever.

In My Blood and In My Bones

Amongst the mango trees, you’ll find Babylon: that place that saw you young. Saw you believe in the goodness of strangers. Saw you love fully and fearlessly. That place that held your hand, held your love’s hand. Held the joy that filled your heart, let it spill over in a scream, in a frantic yell of victory. And you believed that you held the key to your secrets. Believed that no-one else knew what you had discovered. There was you and there was the other, fatefully bound by one night, by one careless confession. The letters curled on the page, danced as they spelled out I love you. No trace of doubt, not one question mark, no whimpers to plant the seed of disbelief. Years went by without a question, without realising that your dreams were no longer the same as mine.

Like young lovers do, you whispered promises. Promises that grew high as heaven. Promises that had to be broken. Promises that became lies once they left your mouth. You knew that they had to be crushed, but the illusion tied you in a haze. Neither one of you wished to be freed from the grip. Comforting those times were, unparalleled was the beauty, unflinching was the hedonism with which each hour passed.

And I fell towards the evening, that sweet mist that carried this twisted hope. Yet I feel no anger or fury. I demand no explanation. Just one look from you. Just that look from the corner of your mischievous eyes throwing a careless wink and I know, so truly know that there is no other song I’d rather sing than yours. No matter how the day ends, in unruly misery or blissful contentment, I will stay in your blood and in your bones. Your careless words and loving ways will forever stay in my blood and in my bones.

You save me from being torn. Like a quiet sailboat rocking on a peaceful lake, you make space for me to rest my heavy heart on your homely deck. Together we rock to the beat of sorrow: some days slowly, some other days in a tempest of desperation and frustration. Every majestic sunset makes me bow my sinful soul to the grandness of all that surrounds us. I shudder at your grace and grow impatient when you halt my excited words. Wisdom is what is worth more, you teach me. Still, as unwise and thoughtless as I may be, there is you to show me how to guide my young heart towards peace. With you I find peace.  

Tied to me

Throw down a rope, a sturdy rope that can hold this reckless hope. Tonight you shine like no other. Tonight I want to be tied to you. I would bend to unload the burden, to hide from your innocent eyes the many evils with which I near you. Blistering hands hold the line that connect me to you. But then again, you know. Dearest sombre man of many moons, throw down a rope that can save this humble heart. That can lift the adventurous out of these lands of waste.

I want to be changed from the shadow in the tune.
Like water rushing over us, the tide pulls from the moon.

Your endless dark, scare only the weak. May those who stood out of line learn that the only way to know the truth is through your constant star. I boast no particular talent, yet the beam I feel upon my fair skin in the darkest night teaches me to see. Then those who wait far behind have a guiding light. I now know how to secure my life to your pull. How to soak in your light. How to pass on the teachings of your many visits to our lively scenery. The rope lays still untied.

I call this my garden, where sweet, reckless hope resides. Hope, that floats until it find its anchor. Day and night, labouring to harness this fickle notion. The moon stays unmoved, only heeding to the call of the tide. Then it moves and with it, you and I grab the rope to be near. In the vicinity of the magnificent barren landscape. No other force has such pull. No other force can sway masses of water out of its bed. Then you and I move with the swaying of the moon. When I find the dangling knot, I clench my useless fingers around it and wish to be pulled ever nearer to my sweet, reckless hope. Ever farther from you.

Tame these weights my master of astrology. Tame them so I can be pulled, away, to you. There are many hearts beside mine that wait for the waters to quiet, for the rope to appear. Time nears but the particulars fade. Once they have faded I no longer know how to carry you home. The glowing moon shines like any bright sun. Tonight it shines brighter than ever before. So thrown down a rope, for we want to escape. Escape the burden we have been laden with. And then stay tied to me so I can float above the land I once loved. Sail me around the parts I have missed, but never let me untie myself from the journey I now willingly undertake for an eternity. You and I, my constant moon, we shall see the good and bad and learn from each wicked heart the truths about the human spirit. Then you and I, my constant moon, we will call for the end. With bleeding hearts we will quit our travels and stay forever tied in the ether.

Then and only then can you stop your pull.
Then and only then can you part with the tide.

My Treasure, My Words.

If it weren’t for you, my words, I would be a passenger drifting through the dark night. I would spin directionless down the slippery slope of life. If it weren’t for your empowering assurance, I would have already given heed to the gravity which pulls at my heart. But I stand in the middle of an empty field, breeze rushing through the tips of my finger, the sun forcing my eyes to close at its might, confident of the solitude and loneliness. Confident of the grace with which each vain attempt brings me closer to some sort of enlightenment. Never have I been sure. Never can I be sure. Never do I want to be sure. The beauty in each word remains by the ambiguity to conquer. To command and  conquer. To rule and subject to. To stay silently in the shadows and watch from the sideline as each well placed word hits the bull’s eye.

I am half a person without my words. They clad me, protect me, empower me. I hide them from the evils of the unforgiving world. Only rarely are they allowed to face the harsh critics. I am responsible for every word I set out into the world, for they can build walls, cross oceans, bring water to deserts of sand and rock. They can pain and heal, have the power to create and destroy. We live in peaceful tranquility my words and I. It’s seldom silent or boring. It’s mostly loving, at times fearful and doubtful, but with each night passing cleared of the hasty despair of the cruel day before. We watch the sunset over hope street and hold onto each other until the next time there is reason to surface.

We nurture this dream, my words and I. The dream that cannot ever become a reality for in the process it would break arms, necks and hearts. It would maim the soul. So with all our efforts, my words and I, we nurture this dream. We stay intertwined, locked in sorrow and regret, but never allow anything to come between the sacred movements of creation. My words are mild mannered and well tamed. They long not for the bright lights of fame, only want to fulfill their destiny of silently repenting, preaching, guiding the unsuspecting reader. Together we weave webs to channel the ideas, to gently nudge each pair of eyes laid on our masterpiece towards all we know to be true. We don’t shout from the rooftop. We don’t wear ornaments that glitter or shine. We don’t call on ambivalence without purpose. We don’t aim to be anything more than what we are and in that we humbly remain.

If it weren’t for you, my words, I would be lost to the world. I would fall after each step, cry after each battle lost. I would hide like a hermit and let all moments pass me by. Without you, my words, I would never be sure. With you, my words, I can never be sure. But you help me and for that I will indefinitely stay indebted to you. Thank you. And then it hits. How would I know if this was it? How would I know for sure? How can I let you take the lead and how could I not let you lead me to wherever we need to get to together? If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would not be who I am today. If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would sit here empty and broken. If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would never know this much love. I could never give this much love.

The Shrouded Secrecy of Others

I am broken to little pieces but you see a whole.
I never knew how to do but did none the less.
I cover my body with lies to show a truthful soul.
I hate the way I look but spend hours trying to make you like me.
I seldom believe I can make it through the day but hold diplomas to say I am the best.
I don’t trust anyone around me but pretend to confide in strangers.
I pray without faith.

I am empty inside but I teach how to enrich the soul.
I am a recluse always surrounded by people.
I lied that I enjoyed your company.
I was happy to see that you were not doing better than me.
I broke your heart out of boredom.
I say I’m happy but I’ve never really been.

I am unsure if I ever wanted the life I have.
I gave up on the truth already.
I am reckless only when people are watching.
I still try to justify my decisions.
I am weak to change but dictate my terms to others.
I don’t believe in compromise but force it upon those I supposedly love.

I cheated on everything that mattered.
I can’t change but preach of a white washed soul.
I favour violence but I’m afraid in the dark.
I said you glow like the sun, I lied.
I know it was my fault but spend years arguing it never was.
I blame others to escape from the burden of responsibility.
I never said anything I meant; only what you wanted to hear.

I am glad I can’t have children but pretend to be crushed when others are present.
I fear the future but say I don’t.
I always knew I could never succeed but was too proud to quit.
I admit defeat only when it’s too late.
I pushed you away in the hope that you would come back.
I still want someone to show me how life’s done.
Saving you was an accident.

I don’t love you.
I know that you know.

You can make it better by blowing in my ear.
Can you blow until I disappear?

Kiss Each Other Clean

With your timid fingers lock the secrets that lie in each breath we took until today. I can only give a frail glance, turn around for one last time. That moment saw us weep with honest disbelief. Never would I want to change that moment for any other. You held me, for such a long time, you had me.

Then the gruesome fight took its hefty spear and pierced the grip between you and me. Loosened from your side I found myself alone. Brave and loyal, I fought so that all we believed in would regain its sense. My limbs went numb, my lips were silent, but I saw in the distance, far ahead, the shadow that turned out to be the prophet of the dead. Not out of need but want, I marched on.

That grave injustice which you did not deserve. That immense pain which ripped through your heart. Then that soothing sound calmed the frightful days. Whispers laid before you like fresh flowers from a dewy spring meadow. Just lightly touched by the sun’s tender rays. The gloomy sky held one patch of clear blue, enough to fit one person. How will you let me in? Wounded from the fight, fearful of the days to come, fumbling after the winter dark. I miss your hands, they were true to me.

I fear I will never be loved as well as I was loved by you. The constant carer. You loved not with a vivid love, not with colours or shouts. Not with dreadful heights or abysmal lows. Not with gold or silver, not with night or day. Our inexperienced love tried to hide each day. Sometimes I found it only by the afternoon, some other times it was there all along, in broad daylight for all to see. We both gave, we both lost, we both will always have. Still I fear that I may never be loved as well as I was loved by you.

I grew older, now I know pains I could not imagine before. I have to learn to seek the truth again. I know which way is back. My bag is bigger, lighter. I carry with me the days when nothing happened, still you were there. I carry nights that were unkind. I carry places that made my heart bigger. Strangers who appeared true. I carry instances that moved me. Tearful mornings when great loss was upon me. Years when I was silent and you talked endlessly. I carry pain that forever took a part of me. I carry many faces who have been good to me. Sounds that are heavenly and can never be hindered by any earthly woe.

Mostly I carry love that is on loan to me.