No Mirrors

 

The self resides in the eye of the beholder

but try beholding yourself without mirrors

and live without the reflection of your presence

unable to reveal your corporal essence

Would your soul be set free

when unshackled from human vanity

and would your unbridled potential

make daily existence more endurable

would you still smile anyway

would your demeanor show worry

and when physical beauty fades

messed hair waiting to be tamed

would you honestly care

when there are no mirrors there

No self-reflections to waste time precious

no beauty aids to make others envious

your beauty woven into daily experiences

with eloquence emanating from inner substance

but our society would flirt with disaster

in our world without mirrors

life as we know it could not exist

everyone would be at risk

and all cars on the precipitous brink

with objects not reflected closer than you think

 

Subterra Ostium

 

Decaying flesh and bones hidden from sight

accompany my journey through the bone yard

as needles of pine on moonlit night

hide branches resembling severed arms

 

Moss covered stumps cast eerie shadows

during this fog shrouded nite of the dead

as rustling leaves on wind arise

fixing frightful visions in my head

 

Twisted branches and moonlit shadows

form creatures that emerge from granite stacked

bringing terror chills from head to toes

that send tingles of fear down my back

 

The departed within this place rot in death

and trepidation is mine to share

as I feel their spectral breaths

and hear their curses emerge from nowhere

 

Demons and angels underground

all smell of death in eternity

and social beasts claw at the ground

wanting to devour their soul and identity

 

As the mournful rustling brings me some fright

the lonely and tortured souls

rise above their graves on this nite

within the moonlit gleam and ghostly cold

 

 

 

 

 

Le Chemin ( El Camino )

 

She stood in the shadow of her dreams

hiding from the sunshine of life, it seems

planning her escape from present conditions

by reliving nostalgic illusions

 

The search becoming her way

and the way never seeming to stay

while repressing impulses to shine brightly

and to seek new paths immediately

 

Her soul wandered in boundless labyrinths

where traces of love and pleasures distinct

hid among the dark pines bordering

the native village where joy was nothing

 

With the comfort and vitality of her age

she found that youthful appetites still raged

and with not a moment of regret

she passed into the bright sunset

 

To find there tenderness and purpose

wrapped in the warmth of life generous

she now strolls in the glowing light

towards that place where existence is right

MALALA YOUSAFZAI

 

Timidity was never in her manners

like snow falling to ground renders

the traces of prejudice invisible

she melted that cover like sunshine undeniable

 

A teenager standing alone bravely

her flickering light buffeted every day

by the harsh winds of fanatic religion

she with determination held firm in decisions

 

To stand for human rights

no matter how real the fright

her delicate face and dark eyes

a beacon in a land where freedom dies

 

With her tender voice the center of gravity

stoking the fires of female identity

she sacrificed herself beyond imagination

seeking better life and education

 

Her ideals like music played softly

like despair soaked in words spoken daily

irritated evil minds of Taliban delusion

those seeking to destroy a fragile Nation

 

Misguided and ignorant of world opinion

they chose with selfish satisfaction

to bring darkness upon the selfless inertia

that is the sunlit richness of Malala