The Death Of Free Spirit

What once stood tall and proud
Stands low hugging the ground that found its roots
The sun no longer its friend
Replaced by a deep darkness that envelops it
It was free spirit that was grounded to a pulp
It stood hunched
on a street corner
much like a beggar who nobody sees
unless they bump into him
who said you have to break bones to break a man
just squash everything he stands for
kill every objective that made him proud
bind him to watch the drama that unfolds
force him to keep quiet and be weighed down
by the words that did not escape his lips
force him to understand fear
not fear of god
of evil
of treachery combined with power
force him to acknowledge the power of evil
power of small everyday fallacies
power of little injustices carried out everyday
Make him watch the suffering of others
make him look the other way
and then watch the spark die in his eyes
watch how his shoulders stoop
watch how how the spring disappears from his step
enjoy his fall
enjoy the power in you
the power to kill in a man all that he stands for
and then if your power permits you to remember before its too late-
Remember - what goes around comes around

MY CHANGING LIFE

I am caught up in the whirlwind of changes... sweeping changes. the ones that are mostly irreversible. For the sucker that I am for the steady unchanging boring life ... i have on my plate the exact opposite. I am aware that I am in transition and like that silly kid who is running after fireflies in the darkened garden, I run in all directions and pause every now and then in wonder and amazement at the sparks I witness. The realization that these moments are fleeting is what makes this exciting.

Decision making is a lonely process. If its not lonely then the decision was not yours. I have made up my mind and started on a road and every now and then self doubt creeps up like that ugly man on the train station whom you didn't notice until he moved towards you looking you straight in the eye and a crooked grin. And you think... he is laughing at you. Well ... even he thinks you are stupid.... and then sanity recovers itself and wears its robe once again to cover the nakedness of doubt and moves on like nothing happened and all of this was just a figment of my imagination.

Every now and then I meet people who have stood with me at some cross road or the other and we've taken different roads. A small pang of regret often surprises me. Which brings me back to the road I've chosen and I tell myself, they too have chosen their own roads and are walking down those roads. I dislike taking decisions that bring consequences I wasn't prepared for. But then you can plan all you want however when the big guy up there gets bored he likes to watch you squirm in your seat thinking what the hell was I thinking and how did I end up here.

 

Dear G

Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for listening intently and speaking softly. For listening and making sense of the nonsense that tumbles out of me. For allowing me to struggle and make sense of myself. For letting me bring things into focus. For letting me paint all the colors I have. For tell me of my shifts. For connecting with each shift. For putting us as equals. For patiently and graciously accepting the difference in our views. For just being this person who knows how to deal with everything. For letting me paint some parts of you that may or may not be there.
I hope I can be there for you too.