Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side


Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle


Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides

How many more sighs

Gone are the hours of yesterday

And dawn, knocks behind the window pane

Before we let her in,

There are some matters to resolve

A worrisome heart and a pondering mind


Loud is the silence

But louder is The Voice

Beseeching and reassuring,

That we worry not about the morrow

And spare some minutes to rest


But stubborn as we are,

Owing to our human nature

We toss, turn and fret

And try to reconcile with hope,

With one question taunting, “How many more sighs, Lord ?”

While Minding My Business

A fortnight later

And he’s gifted me

A glimmer of hope

This, while simply minding my business


He could be the one

But he often disappears

Then I’m left to ponder

My only warning, being a moment’s notice


Then he reappears

As if to make amends

My heart jumping with joy

As if to tell me, “Didn’t I say so?”


Who does he think he is?

Leaving me in disarray

Telling me about his day

Then gone in a whiff


I better stay calm

Guard this heart of mine

Lest she warms up to him

For the grandest of falls


A fortnight to come

I may be left morose

And so maybe it’s time

To dish out my trusty detachment

The Best

The best is yet to come

It wasn’t today

Nor was it yesterday

Perhaps, a morrow sooner


The best is yet to come

I tell myself every day

Someday, one day

The waiting time, shortening


The best is yet to come

Said gleefully, because…

Who knows, it may very well be

Right after this utterance

Doubt

Babies, pure till they meet the world

But what is and isn’t doubt, before it’s stripped ?

We only then will know

When the medium that bears it

Is cast away


Drumroll, drumroll please…


I give you, present to you, the benefit of doubt

Let the innocence of the white snow

Make all seem without flaw

Let their footsteps

Reveal a sense of direction


But in reality

There is a story to every footstep

There is no doubt, but this, you do not see

Till the snow melts away

Till the footsteps no longer tread one way


Till the footsteps of a stripped innocence

Come knocking at your door

In an unexpected cold winter

To serve you back

Leaving no doubt, whatsoever

ANEW

From what was a hushed night

We have now, morning

The silence remnants,

Still enveloping creek and corner


Soon it will have competition

When with sunrise, comes the bustle

And with the bustle, comes the hustle

The hustle, bringing forth a new chapter


The living are readying

To attack the day

Such zeal, such motivation

Pot scoops of such, invaluable


A brand new day

For the lonesome, the nurturers

For the caretakers, the peacemakers

Even more brilliant of a day, for a dreamer

My black sunglasses

Legon Botanical Gardens. Circa 2018

There are so many eyes on me

So many stares, so many labels

There’s something about black

Black sunglasses

Boosted confidence?

Possibly

Black to go with everything?

Definitely

Protection from harmful sun rays?

Guaranteed

But none of these is the reason

For my copping of a pair

For as timeless as they may have made me out to be

There was something that I didn’t want the world to see

Broken Wells

I know a thing or two

About broken wells

Consequence

Of a broken heart

Quenching their thirst


I know a thing or two

About the broken-hearted

Drawing and drawing,

The well, almost bare.

And when broken, none seems to care


I know a thing or two

About these two, broken well, broken heart

But I wish I had earlier known

That one would leave

Right after the mend and quench

Detour

There at the tunnel’s end

They say, there’s light

But a wall of consequence

Awaits me


You see

There’s a freeing release

About crossing the finish line

But with release, comes vulnerability


So just maybe,

Shall we prolong this race?

Seconds, minutes, hours

Before being fully consumed


Sometimes

We don’t need the end

Because we already know.

Sometimes, almost is truly enough

The End

When you know, you know

Unmistakable synergy

The senses relaying,

The tragic news


But it’s the switch

The transition, the click

The crossover

Immediate and sudden


Burden is delivered

Guilt casts over

The silent ache, reverberating

This, the soundtrack to the loss of child

The Rush

Evening rush,

Before the orange sky blackens

Bustling crowds, awaiting speedy trains

Seconds during transit,

Offer a glimpse into life

Be it, the crying toddler

Or the witty beggar

The diligent station janitors

Or a trio of giddy teens.

But someone’s felt a sudden rush

Fleeting, yet evoking appreciation

When locking eyes,

With a charismatic passerby.

Both strangers perplexed,

By the unexpected gaze

And what shouldn’t have lingered a second more

Had just birthed a “What if…?”

The answer to which,

She, passenger, would never know.

The train doors shut.

What then lies ahead,

Is another chapter of some story,

Perhaps, another mutual connection made,

Before final destination.

poetry

some fall in love

others love the idea of love


some thirst for water

others sip champagne in delight


poetry

i’ve fallen for you


you’re a scarf to smoothen out of place strands

you’re velvet to skin


cognac to the lost weeper

tea drank by the grassy bank


a sail to brave through strong winds and tides

pot of gold under the rainbow


a listener, comforter

nurse to the banes of my life