Tis the season of gratitude
I am so grateful I’m not entangled with you
Thankful I never gave my heart to you
Your self hatred directed at the Light
Aware on some level it might enlighten you
Wisdom is poured into your ears like soul medicine
You spit it out and vomit words of war
I’m so thankful you’re so far from my periphery, though I pray you find Reality
I pity your petty conclusions, the hurts they inadequately cover
The illusions of control, of the arrogant
I’ve been here before
Wouldn’t join you for the ride if you asked me (but you won’t now)
Still I try one last attempt to save your sinking ship
Watch you sink f/the shore
You searched your whole life in vain
For this country, this paradise, deny love, God, no freedom even to dream
You searched for what you could not say
Peace eternal
My peace is free from your confusion
About Me
- Kathy (杜 言 艷)
- I just returned back to the States after 11 years in Taiwan with my daughter. Taiwan is an excellent base for us explore Asia, while living in relative (gun free) safety, while benefiting from a cheap and efficient national health care system. The people are amazing too. I have Taiwanese friendships that are 20 years old and I'm always making new ones! My coworker here in CO is from Taiwan.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Ode to the lost
Ode to the lost, I’ve been there before
I refused the bouquet at the banquet door
Trudged the high road, the other way so clever
Worship the mirror, the self, like a child, like an evil fairy tale step mother
Murder the child like faith in magic, in something simple, something more
Talk to fools who have it all figured out at age 30
When you bring them freshly picked blossoms of love
They throw it on the ground and stamp on smiling petals
No eyes to see
Nor ears to hear
Understanding as far as fingertips go
Like one blinded in a fog
The smog of collective and personal history
He’s a coward after all
Too afraid to trudge in the stench, the muck of it
To spend time in the murky swamp and find clarity
In that clearing, in that cleansing you realize
It found you
I refused the bouquet at the banquet door
Trudged the high road, the other way so clever
Worship the mirror, the self, like a child, like an evil fairy tale step mother
Murder the child like faith in magic, in something simple, something more
Talk to fools who have it all figured out at age 30
When you bring them freshly picked blossoms of love
They throw it on the ground and stamp on smiling petals
No eyes to see
Nor ears to hear
Understanding as far as fingertips go
Like one blinded in a fog
The smog of collective and personal history
He’s a coward after all
Too afraid to trudge in the stench, the muck of it
To spend time in the murky swamp and find clarity
In that clearing, in that cleansing you realize
It found you
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)