We all
just spend our lives
Trying to overcome our births
Trying to get along with Death
And then untie ourselves from Earth
Trying to overcome our births
Trying to get along with Death
And then untie ourselves from Earth
I had this
photo with me
But can’t remember
the key
There is a lot
to remember to survive
Like all the
passwords, tracks and then the ME
I sometimes
forget the ME in the move
It’s hard to
find a path, and turns, to move
From one place
to another
It’s from A
building to B and C, tangled groove
I forgot the
day I last touched the land and the air
The air we
used to feel when winds roar
The land that
nurtured grass and trees
Here I move around
in glass tubes with oxygen cylinder
There are
gardens, made-up gardens
But I had this
photo with me of some memories
Where I sat in
a courtyard with friends and my pet
We talked, laughed;
the clock was not set for chores
I had this
photo with me of trees, of sand and kite
Where I could
pick something other than me
Something
other than human, alive
Here, wherever
I peep, glasses show me forever
But not the
ME, it shows a luggage that carries
Things that
assist, the inhalations and the exhalations
The pumping, the
digestion, the evacuations
I had a photo
with me of some memories
Faded,
outdated, memories
i hope there never come a day when the parks go away and we only get to see them through peep show glass...
ReplyDeleteor when we can not feel the wind on our face....quite an emotive piece...
Powerful writing, Sreeja. You make the images vivid and scarey. The memory photo is such a contrast!
ReplyDeleteVery insightful and well written!
ReplyDeleteOh, I hope gardens are never just a memory - or the feel of roaring winds - wonderful poem from the future - just hope it doesn't come to be!
ReplyDeleteHow sad if we all live in a glass and our breathing is from oxygen cylinder ~ the refrain of the photos of all that has made you happy in the past is poignant ~ I hope we never arrive at this place & time ~ thanks for joining in ~
ReplyDeleteoh heck.. walking around in a glass tube and not being able to feel the wind...touch nature... i would die...
ReplyDeleteI fear that nature will die in the future... living in a world that's ALL concrete and brick is a no-no for me... smiles... the imagery here is strong: the glass tubing, no fresh air... not a place I'd care for
ReplyDeleteThis is so scary.. to live behind a glass and never see... and artificial air.. we seem on our way not just to condemn ourselves but all the world along with us..
ReplyDeleteYour images in this poem are strong, Sreeja. I wonder what will happen with this memory photo now!
ReplyDeleteThe poetic expression here IN HEaRT reminds me of dreams but truly nightmares of the mechanical mind translated to flowers on Sci-Fi.. spaceships that travel MILLIONS OF miles with only screens of bright lit nature.. without THE emotional and six senses of contagion including proprioception that plant and animal life REALLY LIVING NATURE only brings to LITE A HUMAN heArt as HEART!
ReplyDeleteWHEN HUMANS BECOME avatars INSTEAD OF HUMANS.. life already ends long ago.. and for some that already happens and they do not even realize the REALITY OF LIVING IN HELL IS the reality as they live it FOR NOW.. then and future more in a hell all lit up.. by stuff other than animal and plant flesh and blood living LOVING life....
And the darkness of not knowing that is beyond terror to me of knowing that darkness and that light OF REAL LIFE TRUTH.. in exercising human being...
"ME" lost with fast fading nature... beautifully captured!
ReplyDeleteo my...gardens are a memory...nothing can be sadder and scarier than this...poignant lines...
ReplyDeleteI like how you used the image of the photo to remember the past and things that once were. This is a very strong poem.
ReplyDeletehappy monday to you...smiles.
ReplyDeletethe snows not so bad...but after 8 days,
i need to get out...and want to go back to work...ha
Wow, your words are just as captivating as his. I like that survival is reliant on our memories; tearing up those roots is a way of devolving the human spirit. You've painted many pictures here. Beautiful writing. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. Love
ReplyDelete