#existential poems

There are days when the all encompassing despair for the future punctures a hole in the dinner table so hollow, it swallows all our grievances. When words fall deep into that void and silence is served for hours. Our eyes fail to meet, heads lowered in shame. My family is a unit of several wounds bleeding into one.

“Somewhere there are people who have it worse than us”, – the song plays in the background. There are days when I forsake this place – this other side. The anchorman mispronounces my country’s name and I bite my lower lip so hard I taste disgrace. There is no spring here, even the sun is merciless upon the wretched.

There are days so somber when the jester pulls a new trick and smiles a nefarious smile into the sky onto the gods who blessed him. There are winners and there are the dispossessed. There are sinners and there are those who pay. I carry receipts no one will read of all the unnameable feats. I await no payback.

My mother graces my back with withered hands, I already miss her dying touch. My heroes are paraded through high end streets in placards. I too crave for the pulling of my immortality from the eternal.

Will make you feel so very small

Like when you look up at all the stars

And realize just how small you are

Or if you stand beside the sea

As unnerving as that can truly be

Yet take comfort in the size that you are

For despite your size you raise the bar

In the infinite possibilities that could come to pass

You are the only you, future present and past

I have a bubble of music swelling inside: the silent walls, the cold structures of silence.

It is a tiny flame of sound, a flickering leap upon the smooth slabs of concrete.

I saw the snow today fall like an army of silent white deaths.

And I wanted to join its fragile thaw.

I feel. A minor chord aches, yes it resonates, inside a minor heart.

I pressed down decadently on the piano keys.

The dark…