Passing by



Wind knows
That neither man nor brick
Nor tree nor river can escape
The wrath when
Its heart freezes over.

I tell you,
His fierce visage
Is a deceiver.

Sift through that storm
And you find his heart
Beating just like yours.

For when it catches
A glimpse of you,
Wind holds its breath.
Taken aback by your beauty
He cools himself down.
And if you would only
Tilt your head to a side
To let Wind meet you halfway,
You would hear him whisper to himself:

“Would she care to see
If I gently brushed across
Her cheek and came to rest
Upon her lips
And blew love onto them?
Would she smile in this death of mine?”

You were straining
To catch your lover’s voice
As you sat on that wooden bench
In that star-lit park
Recounting the good ol’ days
And unknowingly,
You smiled.

And down died the wind.



Two warriors.
Two warriors.

Those days have flown by

When you walked ahead of me

And checked the ground

For stones and bricks

That may hurt me

Injure me

Cause me to bleed.

You took the blows instead.

You let those stones pinch your skin

And stood tall as those bricks fell on you.

You did that for me, Papa.


And I valued not

Your courage.

Your love.

And among the many reasons

That would cause us to fight

Why didn’t you fight for me

To understand?


You loved me unconditionally so

And let go

Knowing that that was what

Would lead me to know

My love for you.


Papa, you are missed.

You are loved.

So much.


In tragedy, I tried finding you.

And then in naivety again.

And then again in hope.

But no man can be you.


Not you.


Not the protector you are.

Not the giver you are.

Not the guide you are.

Not the intellectual you are.

Not the friend you are.

Not warrior you are.

Not the father you are.


And I realized all I had to do

Was look for you inside my soul.

And it made me smile

As I found

That I am your mirror image.


A fighter am I.

A giver am I.

I smile.

For you did too.



I await

The true break of dawn.


When the sun

Shoots a million

Beams of orange-red

That dance with hope

And hold hands with dreams

To write a happy ending to a story,

To let destiny tap its feet

To the beats of the human heart.

And they erase

The gloom of the blue sky,

Filled with the pain

Of feathers young

Whose castles stand half-built;

The emptiness

Burdening the blanket of white

On which they stand;

Filled with the hurt

Of the winged boy

Who speaks the language of love;

As raining down from heaven

The bolts of lightning he sent

To touch two souls

To make star-crossed eyes meet

And ecstatic their hearts to beat

Return as twisted arrows

Coated with the sacrifice of tears

And punctured with trench-deep cuts

That pierce the winged boy itself,

And he weeps as one with those broken.

And from among the million rays

That rush to erase,

The one who is called Hope

Is who I seek.

Whose feet are bathed

In jasmine’s sweet scent;

Whose garment billows

In a manner that makes love known;

Whose eyes gaze

To let the mesmerizing despair know

They hold no power against Him;

Whose hands brush against my wounds,

Ever so slowly,

Stretching my skin first

So it may cut itself as deep as it can

Exposing all of my shame,



Broken pieces of my heart;

That lay trembling and glistening still with pain

And then these respond to His touch

As He heals them.

As He heals me.

Cleansing me.

Pouring the blood of Life in me.

His touch makes me whole.

This is He, Hope.

The One in whose wake

Flaming chariots of love

Roll in harmony

To bring along

The true break of dawn.

I await thee.

And light breaks

There was I,

Awaiting dawn

To open its gleaming pink eyes blearily,

And spread its arms wide

In an open-ended embrace.

Those fiery hands

May never caress you,

But in its pleasant gaze,

You watch how

The last shadows of night slink away

As quietly as they came.


This night I wish to leave.

This dawn I want to embrace.


Come, O Dawn,

Bat those golden eyelids at me again

And let me smile

Your morning smile.