Death As a Concept

When death comes, may we come back to collect each of our bones,

gently lay them together and set them alight during an

intimate ceremony only witnessed by each of

of our former selves.

Unshrouded and bare-faced.

And as they burn, may we remember to wail without cease

and with great release so that each of whom of ourselves

we once disposed to make room for others may stand up

and forgive us.

May the dancing flames exude a warmth of great comfort such that

there is not a lived moment we would wish to live differently.

May the crackling sound of the burning bones inspire a song of triumph

for making end days that spared us the shame of looking back at an adversity of a life.

May we find our way back to this much dreaded valley,

crawling with dry bare, bones that bewilder us every time we care to pay a visit.

As they burn and blow as infinite ashes

that will glow and keep the universe alight may we resurrect

as black roses on whatever soils we land on

and hopefully, find a peace we never experienced as bodily beings.

River Beings

See them gesture in dance as weary souls
in a water flow rhythm and enchanting beauty.

Once a moon lit the surface of their water,
a mirror of sheen black with streaks of silver
and the night sky lived in a luminous joy.

In their misty translucency, they hoard, beneath,
world minerals, rubies, diamonds and pearls.
Keeping a watery heaven.

The river runs in the melody of their names;
Chimes, chimes and chimes.

The Magic Children

Children bathed in glitter, laughter; the human good,

with bare feet that pounced and drummed to raise the dust from its ground.

The cheer of the wind so free and the happiness of an untainted sunlight.

Between the rapture of the earth meeting the day, they floated,

eyes shut in complete exuberance, tongues gagging in uncontrollable laughter,

paying no mind the bruises on their elbows and knees,

their reddened flea bites and empty bellies.

The cracked wand drops to break and the magic, abruptly, dies.

At once they turn into beautiful, colourful butterflies

that scatter atop and leave me empty skies.

You're one to stay.

I can, helplessly, be a storm and, without any possible self-restraint, 

wreck you apart but you are one to cup me whole in your hands, 

wait out my unwarranted anguish and remind me of your inexhaustible love.

You're one to wander, painstakingly, through my forest 

seeking to save me from the solitude I tend to subject myself to,

bringing along pockets filled with smiles and melodies 

to enjoy on our way back.

I'm one to spend long periods looking hard in the mirror
but barely making out the person you see in me.
I carry on trusting whatever unprovoked spell you're under
to hold you long enough for me to finally believe and trust in my own magic.
That I am loveable and enough.

I could think of a million reasons for you to leave, 

many more of why I do not deserve you. 

For many or few reasons only known to yourself, 

you are one to stay.



Image: Pinterest https://za.pinterest.com/explore/painting-people/

It had to be you...

It had to be you,

Over joyful and hopeless tears.

It had to be you,

Over a myriad of secrets and shames,

Over constant fears and uncertainties.

It had to be you,

Over continuous forevers,

Endlessly and effortlessly.

It had to be you,

Among countless faces and beating hearts.

It had to be you

Along wild dreams to tame and violent chances to ride.

It had to be you,
Under glaring suns and watchful moons,
It had to be you,

Over worlds to know and times to travel.

It had to be you,

Over and over,

In a million blessed dreams,

It is you, always will be, always must be. You.

I have a man living in my heart

I have a man living in my heart. He loves it there.

Though he'd found no welcoming rug at the door

or been offered a seat and something to drink

I like to watch him joyfully saunter around the infinite

seeming space with a child-like wonderment of "all this is mine?"

possessing his face.

I warmly enjoy his appreciative movements

in and around this once hollow gallery,

carefully admiring the walls for what they used to be.

Bare structures to which portraits once readily clung as memories formerly enjoyed.

Not merely to adorn but much to make them look best and not so lonely.

Not once afraid of what he may find;

Stories I'm yet to let him know.

Secrets told, secrets kept.

Loved more for those remembered

Loved nonetheless for those forgotten.

"You are perfection, my love."

He reminds me.

I have a man living in my heart.

He seems to love it here and that's all the peace I need.

"The Silence in Separation"

Since my last (and only) break-up, a bit over four years ago, I would desist from whatever paths that would possibly trail to any romantic correlation. This would include severing any extended communication with an ‘admirer’ after a night of forbidden fun. 

Hence, my friends would come to stamp me as “emotionally unavailable” in their attempts to understand my disinterest in relationship prospects.

In actuality, I dreaded having to share emotions with/for anyone as I, in this regard, am abundant and unselfish and that being the power you do not want to be very trusting with (Capricorns, hands up).

A little over eight months ago I was formally introduced to a charming stranger who would, although involved at the time, become my whole world (in a matter of days, I say).

Now, I am not anyone to voluntarily become the much resented ‘third wheel’ to a couple, however, as cliché as these things turn out, the heart did the most thinking. I would find that my resistance would fail me as every day he seemed to thrill me differently and I was imminently discovering bits of myself in him: silly-hearted, broken and hopelessly in love.

It would take a month for his then relationship to amicably end (I swear I had nothing to do with it). On the time leading up to their inevitable break-up I realised that my excitement towards being his new uncontested lover was slowly deflating. This came after numerous forced self-confrontations centering on whether, after all these years, was I truly ready to commit to someone (being that or the high way)? Was he honestly as into this or could he be busking on some high level infatuation with me? Is this even safe?

I finally gave in to the chance when he proposed our first date. Days with him were nothing short of blissful and I reveled in knowing that when apart, he longed for me as much as I did  for him, if not more. I recalled the final line from the last text my ex sent me when we broke up, “…I hope the next one treats you better than I ever could”. If I’d love him again for anything it would be his charitable hopes for me.

Finally, day dreaming was a lot dearer trait and less mystifying as he would, unrelentingly, take up the dreamer role while I held back not to seem silly, chuckling internally. 

These ambitions would be painted along the back drop of a future together with the frequent reminder that life would be that much unimaginable without the other. 

I had found a love I could let loose around: he made me fall in love with the idea of love with him and only him. 

The one person I would let stare at every bit of my body I wasn’t particularly fond of (the corns on my toes >.<). I felt complete and enough, there could never be a flaw so blinding of my true self, who he madly loved back.

The fact that we had mutual friends would make it that much interesting, whether it came to petty arguments or just plain fun, it was always better with the bunch.

 Along with every new love, behold, numerous certain realization that occasionally raise the question of whether sticking around really is worth it. As in the words by Elise (Insidious, Chapter 3): “Love is just delayed pain…They’ll leave you anyway”. For a less devastating reason than hers, obviously, of losing her soulmate to a depression propelled suicide, mine was that the one person I vowed to love was slowly unbecoming in what I had hoped him to be.

Feeling failed, I would resist doing anything to reverse this. If anything, the idea of reaching out for a resolution struck hardest at my pride but for ‘unworldly reasons (known only to him and I), I forced myself to also realize that it was only the very pride that I had to lose and nothing more valuable. To also realize that should we have a chance further than this, It weighs half on me to make it work as much as I’d like for it to and to only hope that this decision will be a reward to the two of us in the future. 

Today (sometime back in March), on my second day of being “separated” (whatever that means) I am content in knowing that for one, I could love thoroughly and whole-heartedly and whatever the odds may be, I am/was with the best man.