Waving to God

When I was hungry, from my humble hut,
I waved to God with a heart burdened but,
My plea carried on fragile wings of hope,
Yearning for sustenance, a way to cope.
But the vast universe claimed His attention,
Beyond my reach, lost in its grand ascension.
In a brutal world, as I grew up strong,
I waved again, seeking solace in the throng.
Hand extended, an unspoken plea for grace,
Hoping for divine guidance in life's race.
Yet the vibrant universe stole His gaze,
Leaving me to navigate uncertain ways.

When You Return Home

When you return home after many years,
stepping onto familiar soil,
your heart stirs with bittersweet anticipation.
The sun-tinted house that once witnessed your dreams
now stands a stranger, with cold eyes afar,
overgrown vines clinging to its weathered walls.
It is as if time has woven arras of indifference,
forgetting the dwelling you once held dear.
Your gloomy eyes , yearn for the sight of loved ones.
Brimming with longing and delight,
search for the comforting presence of a mother’s love.

Writing Charlottesville

the
story is written
in
black and white;
no
gray areas
in
this script
ex-
cept for the red
spa-
tters of blood –
no
two sides
to
the tale
of
world war three
in
nucleus –
this
story has only
one
right, and only
one
wrong – this
cast
consists exclusively
of
heroes and maniacs –
this
plot ties neatly into
one
climactic  ultimatum.

Subscribe to RSS - #charlottesville #terrorism #blacklivesmatter #altright #poetry #amwriting