Wednesday, October 15, 2014

As We Survive

Some days just come together,

Known patterns, small idiosyncrasies,

Like members of same family,

Almost twins.

Other days are visitors,

Often from another planet.

Some days sit peacefully

Separate, as spices.

But will make something 

Richly flavored and complete.

Other days are known, 

Expected, even tolerated,

Like noisy, smelly stations of a 

Long distance destination,

On one's yearly visit home.

With Some days

You make friends, only after a decade,

Once cleaned of daily struggle, 

Sharp edges blunt,

Colored in soft, pastel


Some days,

Well, you can't speak of them 

Without lowering your voice.

They are not your share,

But someone's curse, others' blessings.

You have waited for them

Without knowing, while you were 

Busy with all other days.

They ask, they demand,

But in your answer, if you take 

All of you, without hiding,

Or saving some for later

The totality of your being will 

Be defined, transformed,

Touched with a second life,

Deeper, more alive.

(-J, 15/10/14, 8.47am)