Words by Sina
(copyright) ©
Bookends - Final Days
Hospital Rooms
In these rooms
there is no rest.
Rooms perfect
For the poor,
the weakling;
infirmaries
designed perfectly
for interrogation,
interruption,
and dreamless dozes.
Bright lights
throughout the night;
Disturbing pulses that jam
and arm,
constant beeps
that alarm
the calming senses;
Rude awakenings
undelayed
and without exception;
The stench
of one's flesh,
unclean,
oils oozing sickness and remedies,
skin unwell;
no soaps --
all cleansers clinically
uncleaning,
unwilling,
unscented.
In these rooms
some hoping
to jettison soon,
others just biding time.
Night crawlers,
regular coughs and snores,
flatulences and moans,
make up the ambiance
that curtains can never
customize, or
privatize.
In these rooms
no one can rest.
Be still
and let quiet reign.
Let the silence heal
and destress
the anxious return.
Be sincerely quiet,
in every way.
This supposed
temple for healing
Like the fearful nervous
souls within it
need to sleep.
Vicissitude
In the commerce of life
Buzzers sprang me to hustle.
Days busy with sounds,
brightened shadows and gray shadows,
rain shadows and sun shadows,
love-life and moon shadows;
And days lost and found
in the murmuring thoughts
and surprises of tomorrows.
So many moons passing perfectly
in the sagacity of my being.
Lately, days are deafening,
quietly humming,
at times buzzing
shapelessly,
soundlessly,
Some days as quiet as time itself,
passing by
relentlessly.
The quiet has given birth
to a new fear in me -- how will I be, what will I be, after I go !
Senseless.
Pointless.
A fear that readies me
for the ultimate silence,
that everyone will eventually hear.
And the silence feeds the fear in me;
And I fear,
for I am in love with so many
and so much.
I fear, and know, the loss will be mine,
and only mine.
These days shadows have crept in me,
fingernails and skin darkened black
by horrible chemistry
Designed to save me.
These days my heart is crying and bleeding
Inside of me;
Platinum.
So much left to do
and futures
I have yet to see; To be.
And these days the trees seem so silent,
waiting, motionless
in the celerity of time passing,
enticing me,
and ever so quietly,
guiding me,
to the next phase
and the vicissitude of my being.
I will go;
I must go.
Giving
I want a billion lives in me
just me and my lives; free;
in the crimson tide of withering skin,
I may be seen as undying;
a billion lives for me.
No, it will not be;
Delusions elude.
I won't be a judge
under some scorching cold golden sun
or at some trembling morning hour
in the burning court of mystery
and zephyr fear.
Not a judge in a robe
of demanding respect
or dreaded fright
in the dazzling conundrum
of a submerging crevasse.
And not an executioner,
facelessly masked
on heartless wings
of a fallen angel,
ethereally whispering a certain name.
Not one to sever the trembling souls
of the merciless, the merciful,
or the compassion seekers,
for onlookers to descry.
I want a billion lives in me;
lives to save for mercy.
Lives to give away at will;
child of prayer passing,
the kind and young departing
in the midsts of hunger,
deliverance of love
in the tree rings of life.
Lives to give away
in the azure skies
of an empty wilderness;
gifts to fulfill that one last
unspoken wish.
A billion lives
not to extend ME
into some unwilling tomorrow;
lives to undo certain sorrow.
A gift of life
in the velvet strolls
along the corners of gazing eyes,
blazing skies;
Not to conquer
but be part of a pristine surprise:
Giving ...
New Friend
In the vastness of the universe
At the edge of sundown
where the ocean boils off gently
into the sky above the sea
there is a new friend
that has finally found me.
Inside every vector of my veins
in the meandering capillaries
and amongst the friends of my heart
my new friend circles
and churns
and grows
into a new me.
A new me
that is taking over me.
Growing rapidly
with vengeance
into sundry and fragmentary shapes
inside every fiber of me.
This new me
is leaving me behind.
The big C that makes everyone cringe
and quiver;
Unexpected
foudroyant,
flamboyant in its own right.
Intimately intramural,
inside my shadow,
and propinquity
of my dreams.
My new friend, cancer.
And blessed I feel
for knowing,
for the chance
at reflecting,
exploring
the moments of love
in its plenty.
The big C,
has so harshly blessed me.
Friends that care,
insisting to be
part of my story,
son and daughter,
brothers and sisters,
gently caress
my quiet worry.
And still,
I am blessed
though every moment grooms me
into something gently quiet
as my new friend,
my own flesh,
consumes me
gently past time
into the vastness
of some other universe.
When I Go
Does anybody know
where the truth is,
reading between the lines?
Some souls pass me by believing
they know my life story
chapters read cover to cover,
line by line.
Superciliously pass me by...
Some souls linger, exploring
the colourful flowers and little scars in me,
minor knowledge and minor dreams
that make me a star, or even
a man feathered on tar,
even interesting,
but perhaps sylvan and bizarre.
Often friendship and love arch in me
feelings superimposed
like in a photograph
transposed,
Sometimes hidden,
sometimes overexposed.
And sometimes I see life
ever so fleeting
despite new faces ready
for the meeting.
And as life seems to be retreating
that is just another chapter repeating.
Does anyone know
Where life goes
at the end of the light's glow
in the glistening diamond snow
perhaps a forever goodbye
or maybe a new hello.
Perhaps I will never be alone
when I depart, and be seen
in the sky where birds have flown
or in the midst of the brimstone
where slight desires have grown,
human desires that never adorn.
Perhaps I will never be alone.
Enterprise of My Being
Youth,
age,
disappearing in the relentless waves of time.
Wishing one day I may return
younger
and more able,
and admire the beauty
That once escaped me,
In the realm of my ages
the dust of the stages,
I once stood;
my footsteps dancing me;
lovers advancing me,
glancing me;
dreams trancing me.
Youth;
disappearing in the tenderness of my yearning.
Wishing one day I may return,
as the blossom of a kiss,
always bliss,
never amiss...
maybe I would be the wise man
I seem to be,
I need to be,
this day,
some future day
in the enterprise of my being.