He was a hulking man
With a voice edged with authority,
Body parts designed for hostility,
And narrowed eyes that awakened
In the distance I hear a clang,
It’s the tin man.
The unmoveable man;
Feet sunken so deep into the ground,
That he could feel the worms slithering around
But still chooses to stay.
A white wall that hears but never listens,
Was he too much of a man to show compassion?
Were these hands incapable of loving,
What is love if it’s not given?
I heard that the dead lie in graves,
So I dig and dig,
Only to find,
That the man I wanted him to be
Never really existed.
Words are not enough to express how much you annoy me. Even now, being separated by miles and miles, you have found ways to exasperate me. Mule headed, controlling, bossy. That’s what you are. But strangely enough these are things that I miss the most. It dawned on me that I may not get to see you for another year and a half, even longer depending on the circumstances and this very thought saddens me. You have been a constant in my life ever since I was born and it has been challenging adapting to a life without you. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that I got to have your room and the internet all to myself. However these trivial things are not what comforts me when I’m down. I miss you. I really do. Things have been hard lately and I know that it would have been a tinge easier with you around. I find myself doing the things that we would normally do together; the silly gestures, the random singing outbursts, the ridiculous laughs. It is honestly the little things that I miss the most.
Soon, very soon, I’ll be off on a new journey and would be starting an entirely new chapter of my life, which is great but I kind of wish you’d be there to see me off at the airport. It’s not that I want you to come home. I don’t. Really, stay where you are. I know you are happier out there and I hope that you one day get the chance to make that your home but it is simply unavoidable for little sisters to miss their big brothers.
Lots of Love,
Your Sister J
Alongside posting my own poems I made the decision to start sharing any other poems that captures my attention. This is my way of appreciating the art of poetry and keeping these poems and poets alive.
So I begin with a poem depicting Carpe Diem. To anyone who does not know what that means it simply means “Seize the day”. I’m a great advocate towards living life to the fullest and making the most of what I have. Live for today, live in the present as tomorrow and that future we so desperately cling on to and seek to achieve may never come to pass.
To The Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
To those who search for me, just know that I sit at the very edge of that rugged headland; a place where I can peacefully watch the ocean hurl itself against the granitic rocks and drag away the broken pieces into its deep blue care. Truth be told, there are days when I wish that it would do the same to me. But until that happens, I’ll watch the waters trickle down those slippery surfaces like solitary tear drops and revel in the feel of the cold wind against my skin. I’ll breathe in the sea-side aroma and keep on living.
This place, a place that had once brought me solace, now only evokes great sorrow. From here I see the horizon and witness as the sun kisses the ocean. I see the sky change from baby-blue to yellow gold. I watch as it takes up the colors of sunflowers and candle lights and then turn somber and dark and for the first time this unworldly sight is painful to bear. The feeling of weariness is hard to ignore and the reality of my current situation has become heavy to shoulder.
It is within these moments that I find that I miss them the most. I am no stranger to solitude. On most days, I find great comfort and calm in taking long walks along the coastline and immersing myself within the sea of a secluded beach; my thoughts being the only voices that I hear. I think clearer and would normally feel the weight on my chest lighten. But these waters have now turned chilly and the silence of the sand seems to speak with a deafening loudness. Indeed I am no stranger to solitude, but these meaningful walks have become meaningless and I find that I am a stranger to that feeling.
But at the same time I am in no rush to meet new people. Perhaps it is the introvert in me that makes me reluctant to do so, but it would be too easy for me to blame it on such a common trait. I feel that it has more to do with my belief. Some say that those who come into our lives, only to leave it eventually, are bound to leave behind a valuable lesson and from that you’ll learn something, become stronger or wiser but I tend to see it differently. I feel that with every person you allow into your life, you give away an important part of yourself and with their leaving you lose that part until eventually, after everyone has had a taste of who you are, you are left with nothing. So perhaps I am that rugged headland; the incoming waves being the people who enter and affect my life, but waves were designed to recede, and with its leaving it breaks and takes my pieces until eventually I will be reduced to nothingness.
It has become a cycle. She would find the strength to hold on, and grasp on any speck of hope but the heart by nature is an impatient child and love itself a fickle dove, and grows weary with the lack of success. She then decides that the best solution would be letting it all go, but doing so would be like walking across a bed of hot stones. She would bravely take the first step and recoil almost immediately, only to realize that holding on was much easier than letting go. Nothing has felt more right to her than fighting for him. If moving on is what she must do then why does it feel like a mistake? Why should she willingly submerge herself into the murky waters of emptiness? She has heard tales of great warriors who have followed their hearts and attained bliss and she is listening; to every beat, every whisper and every sting and it has led her to one place and one person. Was she expected to walk away from that? The homesickness is almost nauseating, constantly weighing her down. She has known happiness, and she has known greatness. She has tasted freedom and bathed in its delight. She has seen her future and turning away from that would only break her.
Excepts from a book I’ll never write
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Something has changed.
The weight is there but
it is lighter than it use to be.
The pain, once splitting, is now simply a dull ache;
Still, an ever existing reminder of what use to be.
And I no longer find myself gasping for air on these long, unforgiving nights when I am plagued with our memories.
I breath so much easier now.
But I don’t think it is because I love you less
Or that I have finally let go
No, it isn’t that.
It is because I have learnt to