In all the empty places
Where your memory still walks
In the silence
Where your laughter still rings
In the darkness
Where your smile still shines
In the silence
Where your heart still beats
In the sunlight
Where your body still glows
In the kitchen
Where your laughter still rings
In the garden
Where your sweat still nurtures
In the bed
Where your passion still echoes
In all the places you and I were we
Where now it's only me
In all the empty places
Where now it's only me
In Nov 2023, I participated in an art and poetry workshop. One activity was to choose one of the poems that the facilitator brought and create a blackout poem from it.
The poem I chose was A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde. The following poem was inspired from her poem:
For those of us
Learning to survive,
We are afraid the sun
Might not rise.
We are afraid
Love will vanish.
We are afraid
Our words will not be welcomed.
We are silent -
We are afraid to speak,
To survive.
Free use photo by Felix Mittermeier
In Nov 2023, I participated in an art and poetry workshop. One activity was to choose one of the poems that the facilitator brought and create a blackout poem from it.
The poem I chose was A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde. The following poem was inspired from her poem:
For those of us who live
Standing upon the constant edges of decision,
The passing dreams of choice,
Looking inward and outward at once,
Before and after.
Seeking a future.
For those of us with fear
Learning this illusion of some safety
To be found.
Free use image by İbrahimacikgozart
After four years, I stood beside the ocean and told it all the things that had changed since I had last seen it. The ocean listened patiently, its waves rising and falling.
When I was finished, the ocean whispered, "I know, I know. . .because I have changed every second of every day, every year, every decade for uncounted centuries."
I randomly remembered this poem that I wrote years ago (maybe around 1995 or 1996?) but do not have in this blog, as far as I know. It was first written for my friend David and later became my personal email signature. It's a good poem for any good friendship, perhaps!
Though shadows lengthen and fade
And seasons brown the blade
May we on friendship's lawn stay
Forever and a day.
Spring green leaves against a storm blue sky is a type of joy.
The sound of temple bells in the half-dark of evening, the smell of agarbatti and piled jasmine, a gentle breeze rustling the trees - that is a type of peace.
The smell of ripe, fresh cut jackfruit on a hot afternoon - that is a type of happiness.
When the headlights of a passing car throw shadow and light across your bedroom wall at 4 am - that is a type of loneliness.
When passing cars fill the rainy early evening with susurrations - that is a type of loneliness.
When you realize you're not actually a part of something that you are a part of - that is a type of loneliness.
When someone gets wonderful news or has something positive happen to them, when you see them smile and shout for happiness, and your heart fills with a vicarious joy, when you first thought is how glad you are for them - that is a type of wealth.
When you have a good memory that you can easily remember, with every smell, color, sound, and feeling, and just closing your eyes brings it to life even in your darkest moments - that is a type of wealthy.
When evening has fallen but the sky is not yet dark, when shadows appear in the unlit recesses of balconies and porches and on the fronts of darkened houses where no one is home yet, then a car's passing headlights throw brief and halfhearted light over them—this is a type of loneliness.
Imagine having just enough friends that you decide not to have any more, no matter how interesting, kind, or compelling a person is. This is a type of wealth.
