My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing……..Marcel Proust.

 

When the storm blows,

The trees that are straight

Are first to be broken in pieces.

Never be too proud of being too straight

And laugh at those who are not.

 

Oftentimes, I have heard you laugh

At the tattered and the torn,

The despaired and broken by loneliness,

The shards of frozen tears

Of children abandoned in streets,

The carnivalesque desire of women,

Hideously pedophile men lurking,

The hyperbolic use of monstrous lies,

The oligarchs and self-appointed

Maniacal masterminds creating rain

And sunshine when they wish

To fit in their hidden agendas.

 

And yet, these men and women

Are not strangers to your world.

Like angels, they can tread on your path.

Think of the contemporary dilemmas,

Those left home to convalesce,

Those undergoing chemotherapy,

And those enduring a prolonged hospitalization.

They might be settling a karmic debt

And ignorance made you laugh at them.

 

Can anyone of you escape the wheel of karma,

O man! drink from wisdom’s spring

Be not a harp without string.

Just like the preacher and the righteous

Cannot fly beyond the highest

Which is present in each one of you,

So, the sinner and the wicked

Cannot fall lower than the lowest

Which is in you also.

 

Every stone is a piece of art

And every man is a work of creation.

Attempt the impossible and succeed

To reflect the stark realities of life.

You need not enter a black hole

To see other realities.

From a hole you came

And to a hole you will go.

This one life is nothing

But a learning curve.

 

Pramila Khadun