Today was another familiar morning, one that i've thought of writing about, but often chosen to suppress instead. Its a morning where i awake, flooded with the memories of my mother, and her passing..
Its a morning where i can't turn around to go back to sleep, because every image, every feeling and every sensation, pulsates through every single cell that composes me. Glimpses of memories of her strongest moments, and her lowest ones, the smile on her face, along with the sadness in her eyes, My defining moments, dwarfed by my transgressions, culminating in the vicious reenactment of her deathbed.
Each icy moment as her breath left her in my arms, each story, or reassurance, supplanted by the darkness of my actions, every emotion and fear, revisited with a fervor that only the mind knows how to replicate.
Would i trade this morning for another? No. I won't. A morning like this, defines me and reminds me, It holds her true to me, and is unique to me. My mother and i, were close, without speaking, without overt affections. We shared a link, that words, and relations cannot describe. In exchanged glances and sheer presence, we spoke not frivolities, but comfort and truth. Our disagreements were fiery and we loved freely, for we begot each other.
Wherever i was, i knew i was safe because i could return, and she never hid her knowledge, that i would never be too far from her. And without warning, unprepared, that security was taken from me. Alienated, i stand in a world, misunderstood and deposed, searching for the hand that held mine. And these mornings, in their entirety, are the closest i will ever get to those irreplaceable fingertips.
Cliches and condolences are abundant, but the depth of an abyss is only known to the one who falls through it, and only when i reach my own end, will i truly be able to awake to a different morning to relish...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Replaced
Everything in the world around us is inevitably replaced. The countless leaves on the towering trees that fill our landscapes, those trees themselves, clouds, wind, sunshine, bugs, flowers, pathways, EVERYTHING. Including ourselves, we will be replaced, by something else. Our dead mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts, cousins, sons, daughters, even grandchildren, should something happen to them, will be replaced, some how or some way, be it a daughter that is born after a mother's death, or a wife, or a honestly reassuring husband after the death of a father, someone comes along to replace the loss.
But what does one do, when you are replaced alive? When the world around you substitutes your place out? When family, often the pinnacle, or inspiration or solidarity in your life, replaces you; with someone else?
And you never know when it happens. Until, the realization creeps on you, like a vine up your spine. As with each action and inaction, words, and expressions, slowly you are weaned on to the knowledge that you have been replaced. As the reality slowly manifests in front of you, that where you once belonged, now you are an outsider.
A cruel joke of time and tide. They both truly wait for no man, of any stature or standing, of birth or life. Intricacies are replaced with superfluities, and the incidence is replace by its derivative. The sense of welcome and belonging are short lived for many that have endured an exodus. If Moses himself, was not accepted by his people, what more a normal man?
That day, when the revelation dawns, in the midst of the flurry of friends and family, when in all consciousness, you are dislodged, and another takes your place. It is then, the conundrum that is life elicits not an answer, but a question, penned by one of the greatest Poets of all time,
To be, Or Not To be.....
But what does one do, when you are replaced alive? When the world around you substitutes your place out? When family, often the pinnacle, or inspiration or solidarity in your life, replaces you; with someone else?
And you never know when it happens. Until, the realization creeps on you, like a vine up your spine. As with each action and inaction, words, and expressions, slowly you are weaned on to the knowledge that you have been replaced. As the reality slowly manifests in front of you, that where you once belonged, now you are an outsider.
A cruel joke of time and tide. They both truly wait for no man, of any stature or standing, of birth or life. Intricacies are replaced with superfluities, and the incidence is replace by its derivative. The sense of welcome and belonging are short lived for many that have endured an exodus. If Moses himself, was not accepted by his people, what more a normal man?
That day, when the revelation dawns, in the midst of the flurry of friends and family, when in all consciousness, you are dislodged, and another takes your place. It is then, the conundrum that is life elicits not an answer, but a question, penned by one of the greatest Poets of all time,
To be, Or Not To be.....
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
A Night, Like this..
A Night, Like this..
===========================
On a night much like this,
A Star of a tragic parody,
Parading the stage of life,
Valiantly battles the blows,
Of Sorrow's double-edged Knife,
On a night just like this,
Each strike he did not dodge,
Held true to his old scars,
Breaking the cover of his bosom,
Slicing a piece of his heart,
Yes, It was a night like this,
What little was left in the jester,
Gradually, became no more,
A heart, peeled away,
Lay as petals, On the floor...
=======================
===========================
On a night much like this,
A Star of a tragic parody,
Parading the stage of life,
Valiantly battles the blows,
Of Sorrow's double-edged Knife,
On a night just like this,
Each strike he did not dodge,
Held true to his old scars,
Breaking the cover of his bosom,
Slicing a piece of his heart,
Yes, It was a night like this,
What little was left in the jester,
Gradually, became no more,
A heart, peeled away,
Lay as petals, On the floor...
=======================
Monday, April 6, 2009
Y = 0X
Mathematics, in my opinon, affords us an affluent avenue with which to summarily express our lives. However, the linear equation which maps our pitiful existence, is not in itself a predisposed channel of revelation, but in itself, an inequality. It cannot be mapped or graphed for the same reason we do not know the outcome of the next day.
Therein lies an anomaly. A point of interaction between the origins and the experiences unique to any graphical equation, and its willful radical. In the matter of life, that pivotal moment is the unequivocal marriage of will and the absence of itself. The point where the derivative which represents will, meets its benevolant equal in the execution of its function, the point where:
y=0x
The revelative essence of when irrelevancy meets congruency, when the disparate meets the form, the Ultimate subtraction, of the beginnning meeting the end. That is the linear equality of the truth of my own existence at this moment. The benign expungence of the oxymoron that is the effectual ineffectuality of the infinity. The linear INequality that summarises my life...
Do you understand?
Therein lies an anomaly. A point of interaction between the origins and the experiences unique to any graphical equation, and its willful radical. In the matter of life, that pivotal moment is the unequivocal marriage of will and the absence of itself. The point where the derivative which represents will, meets its benevolant equal in the execution of its function, the point where:
y=0x
The revelative essence of when irrelevancy meets congruency, when the disparate meets the form, the Ultimate subtraction, of the beginnning meeting the end. That is the linear equality of the truth of my own existence at this moment. The benign expungence of the oxymoron that is the effectual ineffectuality of the infinity. The linear INequality that summarises my life...
Do you understand?
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