Pretending is the Key (a haiku)

***

Gruelingly late nights:
Dressed up words and phrases dance
Across the Word doc.

***

Slippery

Restless, restless…

Bleeding thoughts that comprehend no – wait!

No, not like that.

And certainly not now. Later,

Yes, later. When time permits.

But will it ever?

Dismiss it; forget it.

We’ll think of that again, but only when –

Wait!

When did the sun set? And why

Was I not there?

Absent from the sight of the blood-colored sky,

Unable to feel

Her warmth,

[punctuate; no time for solitary deep breaths]

Unable to watch as the darkness, arriving at its throne…

To understand…

 

Behold! Morning

Awakens the sun and

Yesterday’s weariness, unsuccessful in conjuring

up a dream,

Reconsiders and relents.

Sainted Faith: a poem of remembrance

[Wrote this for my grandmother, Subhabya Devi Mudaliar, who passed away on August 27, 2010. R.I.P., Nani. Love you and miss you terribly.]

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Subhag; Amma; Nani—

How can we express in words (a failed medium) our gratitude?

For your life, your love, and most of all, your faith—

Your faith in us, your faith in others, and most of all, your faith in Christ.

Time strangles and limits all that needs to be said, but we want you to know

That we’ll never forget you—

Your life, your love, and most of all, your faith—

Your faith in us, your faith in others, and most of all, your faith in Christ.

We’ll never forget the times when you suffered,

How you quietly took the abuse

Of a husband who was supposed to love and protect you.

We’ll never forget the times when you got up early, body battered and bruised—

Yet you cooked, cleaned, and took care of your family.

We will never forget.

We’ll never forget the time when you left everything behind

And moved to a new country—

How you answered the cry of your hurting daughter & grandchild.

We’ll never forget your love, or your selflessness,

Or your unwavering loyalty to others.

We will never forget.

We’ll never forget the day when you forsook the idolatry of your forefathers,

When you gave your heart to Jesus;

How you prayed and how He answered.

We will never forget.

We’ll never forget the times when you cradled little children,

How you fed them, changed them, wiped their tears,

And shared with them the incredible love of Jesus.

Yes, this, we will never forget.

And we’ll certainly never forget all those times

When you held us in your arms and in your heart,

How you laughed with us, how you encouraged us,

How you cried for us

And how you prayed for us.

And most of all, how you always pointed us toward the One

Who will always hold your heart and ours.

Thank you, Amma, and thank you, Nani,

For all the times and in all the ways that you lived and loved

And displayed your faith in Jesus.

We will never forget you.

Never will we forget your life, your love, and most of all,

Your faith in Jesus.

We will always remember.

***

Dear Change

Dear Change,

I have a confession to make:
I’ve been avoiding you.

I know you called the other day (again),
And sure enough, I didn’t answer.
But I guess the real truth is,
I didn’t want to answer.
Avoidance is so childish, so petty.
I know this already.
But here’s the truth:
I’m scared.

You freak me out.
You always call and tell me you’re coming over
When I’m not ready to host you.
And that makes me feel
Incredibly anxious.

And actually, I often find your spontaneity
Appalling.
It pisses me off.
YOU piss me off.

Then later I always feel terrible
For my attitude,
Because you always have
The best of intentions.
And the gifts you often bring are wonderful!
Strength, perseverance, courage, growth…

I know you’re not trying to harm me,
Nor are you trying to be rude
Or intrusive.
You’re actually trying to help me.
But I have a hard time
Understanding that.
What can I say?
I’m stubborn and thickheaded.
But you already know this.

I guess I just need to get my shit together.
I’m sorry for not already doing so.
Next time you call, I’ll try to be courageous;
I’ll try to answer.

Don’t give up on me, okay?
And don’t stop calling.
I do enjoy your company.
Just
Not all the time.
But let’s both do our part
To work something out.

Sincerely,
Me

Bound

Was going through some of my old poems, and I came across one that I wrote several months ago for a poetry class. I have mixed feelings about it…still feel like it needs some work, but I thought it was appropriate because–as all Seattleites can attest to–it’s been raining like crazy around here lately. I titled this one Bound.

Morning welcomes another gray sky,
Dark and thick
Like the floor of a murky lake
Whose true bottom the eye cannot see.

The drizzling rain is relentless,
Constantly falling upon the wet ground
But in a manner that is gentle,
Gentle and steady like the sinister whispers
That cloud my conscience.

Simplicity

Some people know that I used to be a HUGE (and that’s a serious understatement) Smallville fan. In fact, it’s probably better to say that I was, at one point, a flat out Smallville addict. When I wasn’t watching it, I was usually talking about it; when I wasn’t talking about it, I was usually online reading fan fiction, looking up spoilers, pictures, etc. Up until season 5, I bought all the DVD sets…and I watched them all a million times (and most–if not all–of the bonus features). So you get the point. I was obsessed. It’s actually kind of embarrassing in retrospect, lol. But whatever, it used to be a great show!

[By the way, for those of you who don’t know, the WB’s SMALLVILLE is basically a re-telling of the Superman mythology. It tells the story of a high-school aged, pre-Superman Clark Kent and his humble beginnings: his life on the family farm, his interactions with his friends and high school sweetheart, Lana Lang, his earliest encounters with his future nemesis, Lex Luthor, and dozens upon dozens of heroic decisions that he made as a teenager–all which led him towards his destiny of becoming The Man of Steel.]

At one point, the show was quite heart-warming. The writing was creative, and really a breath of fresh air. No one had ever told the story of Superman this way before.  So it was a weekly thrill to see Clark Kent (played by the insanely gorgeous Tom Welling) as he developed a number of his super-abilities and tried his best to be ‘normal’ (as normal as an alien can possibly be), as he struggled with things like crushes, popularity, and family issues, and so on. And especially in the early seasons of the show, the plot lines were so simple and relatable. It was encouraging (in a weird sort of way) to think that Superman, the world’s greatest superhero, once struggled with the same issues that any other average teenager in high school struggles with.

I was always partial towards the Clark Kent and Lana Lang (Clana) relationship. And Tom Welling and Kristin Kreuk (who played the lovely Lana Lang) did an absolutely brilliant job portraying that “first love” kind of relationship. And I think the thing that made that relationship so convincing was the fact that they kept things so simple and sweet: desire-filled stares, innocent giggling, nervous smiles…you know, all the things that any teenager in love for the first time experiences. When it all boils down, at least as far as the early seasons go, the real appeal of the Clana relationship was its simplicity. (Of course, for anyone who’s watched the later seasons, you know that the Clark and Lana relationship becomes anything but simple. It’s actually a rather epic tale of star-crossed lovers who seem to have absolutely everything against them and their happiness. Sigh. So sad!)

Anyway, a few weeks ago, while on vacation, I decided to bust out my season 1 DVD set. I watched a handful of episodes and you know what? It made me really sad. LOL. Watching Clark and Lana in their youthful bliss, and then thinking about their future fate literally made me sad for my favorite TV couple.

So, I wrote a poem. It’s basically a reflection of their story told from either of their points of view. I wouldn’t consider this the best poem I’ve ever written, but I think it captures not only how Clark and Lana feel in regards to their relationship (if they were to think back on it), but also how any early fan of Smallville feels when he or she remembers the show and what it was during it’s ‘glory days’ (because let’s face it…it’s a crapfest of a show now! Which, by the way, is precisely the reason I don’t watch anymore, lol). All that said, here’s the poem:

SIMPLICITY

Take me back to the time
When things were simple—
Perhaps not carefree,
But so much more manageable
Than the life that lies before us now.

I miss the times of effortless
Smiles, teen-aged dreams,
And youthful uncertainties—

Days filled watching you
While you watched me;
Nights where our dreams suddenly became
Reality.

Now those dreams and uncertainties
Have all grown up (just like us),
Become large.
Some dreams are now nothing but a nightmare.
And I am beneath them, feeling crushed,
Feeling smothered,
Suffocating as I dream
About a life I’ll never know again.

And all the while, my heart beats faster.
It desires;
It yearns.
I long for simplicity.

I Found God in a Coffee Shop

Many people know that I frequently visit a number of different coffee shops in my area. With the crazy life I lead, sometimes, that’s the only place I can go to find peace and a moment of stillness. I’ll go there to read, write, catch up with friends, or spend time with Jesus.

Yesterday, I sat at my favorite little shop in Bothell, WA for about three hours. I had no particular agenda, so I spent a good chunk of my time just people watching. The result ended up being this poem:

I Found God in a Coffee Shop

I found God in a coffee shop.
His voice I heard
Above the music, above the chatter,
Above the clanking dishes and the harsh
Grumbling of the coffee grinder,
And above the steady gargling of the espresso machine.

I saw Him in the vibrant colors of the artwork
That hangs on the walls;
For it was God, the ultimate Artist,
Who enabled the earthly artist to capture those colors.

I saw Him in the faces of the people
As they read, as they chatted,
As they took a moment to be still.
And as I watched them, I had to wonder:
How many of them are looking for God?
And how many have found Him?
God is here, for God is everywhere.
And here in this coffee shop, I have found Him.