42.

Sitting in the light of a setting sun,
Cigarette burning between two tired fingers, ignored.
Thoughts lost recollecting words said in an emotional outburst –
Cursing the loss of self-control.

Will this be all we are?
Explosions after days of calm? A never-ending cycle.
A storm seems mild to the myriad feelings experienced
Reptilian brain at the forefront,
Human superiority resting in a corner.

The futility of prayers are evident.
Mistakes were made,
Rectification needs to be done.

 
It is unbearably hard,
But the strength gained will be a blessing.

41.

Thoughts for this blog flit through my mind like sparrows around food on a busy street.

The words needed to put them down into reality slip through my fingers and are lost.

I need to find my calm.

40.

Looking out of the window of a bus as it rambles through my city’s pot-holed roads is entertainment in itself:

The shaky view as my body rolls with the vehicle.

The sudden appearance of new details on buildings and trees and objects of old. Has that always been there? Why haven’t I noticed it before? Did I notice it before and forget? I’m growing old. Sheesh.

Cabs that try to turn at awkward angles at the stop signal, so that they can get into the lesser crowded lanes when the signal turns green.
Bikes that squeeze through impossibly narrow spaces so that they can zoom away when the signal turns green.
Bicycles that just ride on the footpath and beat everyone else.
Bus drivers that talk to each other through the windows.
Bus drivers that talk to their conductors.
Bus drivers that talk to their passengers.
Counting the number of cars, bikes, tempos and trucks that zoom past me on the other side of the two-way.

Grand old trees that I imagine have seen their world change and yet remained the same. Squirrels and birds that use these trees as their home, their playground, their restaurant.

Seeing familiar faces everyday.
Seeing new faces everyday.

My altering view from the changing skies to the dusty earth as I prepare to disembark this adventure, and await another.

 

 

 

 

39.

My heart used to soar within its confines as my eyes relayed the image of the night sky to my brain.
My heart felt a longing, a purpose, an escape from all earthly travails while my brain remembered the delight I felt reading novels about space-travelers.

They couldn’t wait to get older and be free.

* * *

My brain buckles down hard now, at the task at hand, as it registers the suggestion to see the night sky at its best.
My heart grudgingly agrees – the solution is down here on earth, not up there with the stars.

They are older now and almost free – so the desire remains.

38.

The room reflected his mind – chaotic, broken, distressed.

It felt good, the first time he toppled something over. It felt good the second time he threw something against the wall. It became a habit when he pushed over the table. It was a release against all that he held back.

***

He cleaned up after the storm. As he picked up the pieces of the aftermath – he also cleared out the clutter that stayed around for years. Wiped up the floor with his right, and mopped up his eyes with his left.

***

He sat on his bed and surveyed his room. It was clean. It was neat.

His mind was calm, and he felt good about it. It was quiet, it was peaceful.

It was temporary – as he very well knew.

 

37.

Summer rains,

You’re a welcome sight for sore eyes.
An ease from the monotony of an eager Sun.
An appeasement of a hunger that can be felt, not said.
A satisfying quench for parched skin and lips.
A calm to the fire that rages on in mind, soul and heart.

A revered blessing from fickle gods.

36.

“I refuse to conform to the gender assigned to me by my physicality.”

“I refuse to conform to the sexuality that you expect me to be. “

“I refuse to conform to your stereotype of my skin-colour.”
“I’m allowed to mock and celebrate and criticize the stereotype of my skin-colour. Not you. Because I own my skin-colour. Not you.”

“I refuse to follow the roles expected of me because of the gender assigned to me.”

“I refuse to follow the incumbent rulers.”

“I refuse to acknowledge that all lives matter”
“I refuse to acknowledge that black lives matter”
“I refuse to acknowledge that any lives matter.”

“I refuse”

“I refuse”

“I refuse”

It seems like the only way we know how to fight for acceptance is through refusal.