Smoke, smog, and dirt cloy at my trachea. My esophagus bulges and collapses. I try to swallow down the bulge. Nothing happens.. I can still breathe. It is difficult yet quantifiable. I can feel the pain, yet it is not pain. I am filled up with this. I fear both things may remain forever. My … Continue reading Hyperaware of Nothing
I remember. Do you? I don't remember every little detail. How about you? Did it really happen? It seems like it was so long ago. It seems like it happened yesterday. Was it real? Did that really happen? Do I have a right to these feelings when no one I know was hurt? Died. Scarred. … Continue reading In Memorium 2,996
Deep in my brain I feel my pulse. Yet it beats at a different speed than my heart. Not my pulse I suppose - my brain's pulse. It seems to work independent of the rest of me. Maybe all my body parts work seperately. They are interconnected in some way. Does the pulsating brain control … Continue reading Brain, Brain Go Away…
I look. Page after page. Unaware. Why is my eye drawn as it is? Although skin deep, skin is a factor. Maybe the factor. Hair. Eyes. Smiles. Respect. Calm. Personality. Humor. Have I found a secret - illusive to others? Am I the one who is free? Though not eternal. Brief. Fleeting. Never can be. … Continue reading भारतीय
Dear Home, I'm sorry I left you, and with you my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. My friends. My safety. My me. You were there for me for twenty five years, and I jumped on a plane without thinking for a moment what losing you might mean. I had always been so proud to be … Continue reading Missing You
The cowardly black shroud has lifted. I know not fully. Not for good. It has pulled itself off my head, shoulders, core, arms and legs. I has dropped to the floor. It could easily trip me up. I can likely get back up however. I am not cloaked and choked. Something funny happened this morning. … Continue reading Ah sure Jaysus. I haven’t seen you in ages!
* This article began as one covering my thoughts of the British tradition of wearing the poppy. It splintered off in several different directions. I will leave the title as is. Now the sun shines down on the green fields of France a warm summer wind makes the red poppies dance The trenches have vanished … Continue reading On the Wearing of the Poppy