“Time to Pause…Time to Take A Breath.”
Poetry
On Remembering
I opened this cupboard that belonged to my mother
On Resting My Pen
I break my pen
For what good is there if my words can’t speak my people’s pain
On Remaining
I will always remain a poet
In peace or in pain.
On Skin
I’ve made a prison cell out of my skin
My heart a fugitive
Always on the run
Charged with wild dreams
On Waiting
Time knows you
And your children by name
It ticks past you every day
Yet, you. Still. Wait
On Being
You may dress your flesh with the corrupted comfort of the city
You may starve your mother tongue of its fables
Conversations
Conversation with a Night Sky
Let me ask you?
Where do you go when you’re not here?
Does the sky talk to you?”
Motion
How many times have you been here? By here, I mean, here and now?
How often do you stop? How often do you look back? How often are you in motion?
The Old Man vs. Time