so...

this has become my place to go to, again
like it was all those years
you were gone

now, maybe this is my place for good

in splinters

all the days you were in that other continent,
did you experience days
when time was filled with air
and the air filled your lungs
and you felt choked on it forever?

did you
dream
of a time when
maybe you and i would meet again

we would look into each others eyes
and you'd tell me everything is forgotten
and forgiven
because nothing else
but what reflects
in these eyes matter?

my days turn out like that now--
i dream of a time when this exile will be over
and then, maybe you will hold my hand again and say
we will always be like this

lull

how can this possibly be us?

this quiet.

we can only be the storm

never the calm after

you didn't

it is hard to believe
you were just steps away

we stayed
where we were

and then
i just walked away,

half hoping
you would come after me.

verbiage

you and i
always
only words

first
those of love and longing

then
those of estrangement

then again
those of love and longing
and the battle to survive

and now
of ashes
spat on each other
of what we resurrected and curcified
again and again

you and i are just words
it is how you will always remain with me

teach me how to wait...

for better days...writes K. and it is what i have been asking for everyday, of myself. to teach myself to wait for better days.
because even in this despair, there is something like hope. too often, i have hoped this is a long nightmare and i'll wake up to find that everything in the world around me is alright. that people never died in this country, houses never collapsed, never fell on unsuspecting lives, that landslides never swept away people sleeping in their huts, animals tied to sheds. it's a desperate thing, this hope.
 and as i type these words, i find myself hoping there will be small tremors and not massive ones that kill people more than just physically. because since April 25th, i feel as though i have become a heap of crushed people. and all of these people are me. a crushed daughter, a crushed friend, sister, a crushed co-worker, lover-- whoever i might have been.
but i have also learned this about myself. i'm crushed the most, by love. because there can be love that changes your personality, your faith in things and everything you believed in, just because it filled you with hurt.
but even in love, the wise ones say one has to be patient.
life, teach me how to wait for better days, just as K

Tremors

Since the earthquake, you are so unreal.
The only things real are the piles of bricks and bodies.
The smell of people crammed together, smelling like fear.
The shuddering of windows as planes fly overhead.
The dust from abandoned mats.
The eyes of hungry dogs.
The cries of people in pain.
The need right here in the house--
water, oil, money, everything.
Everything is so real these days.
Only you,
You are what never was.