Hypothetical Zigzags

If I had to live my life over again

I’d choose to actually live it this time,

Through both sunshine and shadow

I’d overgrow the chained silence

And smile.

In my second life,

There’d be no vulnerable shelter,

My own heart wouldn't beat in two places at once,

I’d hide and run away but never let down.

If I could live this life over,

I’d choose to leave everything behind,

Forever hostile to common senses,
an outlawed pardoner,

I’d bless the disguised angels but deny strong bodies

To fatal evils rooted in chaos

And vanity sabotage.

Inflamed hearts would be sunk in the ocean;

A newly born dawn-

Would be supposed to break and dispose

The framed moment spurs while slowly deleting  the parallel lines. 

When you are ready…

Time passes. This is what it does best. Sometimes it heals, sometimes it changes everything, sometimes it brings us closer to the truth- our truth, which will always remain ours…Time is seldom unwilling or unable to erase painful memories and we have this stupid impression that we would be a lot happier if they were deleted. That it might have been much better if they hadn’t existed in the first place. Maybe it’s our fault. Maybe time refuses to let them go for a reason.

Coping with Loss

Loss is a natural part of life. During our short time, we lose many things, people, memories, our health deteriorates, our physical aspect changes. And we find it unbearable to deal with these changes. Instead, we deny them, reject them, refuse to accept them. Somehow change and loss always catch us unprepared. Even in conversation, the real “D-word” is avoided and replaced by departure, divorce, damage, destruction.

We live thinking that loss is a tragedy and change the same but we had better consider the alternative : no alteration, a frozen permanence with no before or after states, an eternity with no becoming, no growth, no lessons learned, no answers, no wisdom gained through experience, no victories. That would be an absurd punishment, an abusive sentence to existential meaninglessness.

In spite of its painful side effects, loss serves us right. It shows us what absence means so that we can appreciate one’s presence when we have the chance. It reminds us that we are not going to be around forever and encourages us to make better choices and set our priorities straight. Change fills the void in our life, gives us a past and a future and subtly teaches us that we are going to die someday. This should be translated into more significant individual purposes, fewer ephemeral amusements, quality rather than quantity options. As a renowned literary critic once said “You have one marble block only: if you use it for a caricature, what else is left for sculpting a Minerva?”

Expatriate Hymns

                              To Alan.
Each soul has its divine missions.

Sometimes, it’s an insane insider

preaching the superiority of treason
to wannabe pioneers 

who never fail

to repent their uncommitted sins

in solitary confinement.

Some other times -
an intruder on elusive ecstasy,

An altered ego,

Previously dishonored by all five senses,

Drifting away wave after wave, 

ocean after ocean,

Dismissing the self-proclaimed gods,

in search of comforting faith

to make up for up-coming hazards.

Metaphorically conditioned only by contrasts’ zeal,

Untroubled by the mortality of denials,

I’m living one anxiety-free epiphany after another:

Despite your daily ordeals and paradox quests,

A poet of noble betrayals

Will not be seduced

by the refined ways of the flesh,

their enduring intensities of withdrawal,

the invisible chords of a perfect balance
and obvious lack of innate grace.

Now and then, a celebrated revival

-          unchained by surrender    -

turns a new leaf while sharing an old sermon on hope.

Sorry about the cold dissolving the horizon,

It’s been an inhumane break-up for both.

Those born a long way from home

Blame their guilt on the almost deported,

Those dying too innocent

Underestimated the value of prayer.

Un- blinded by grief

We can still witness a re-birth.