Droplets trickle down our skin,
Cleanse our weary souls within
It was a long ride; the road turned slippery wet after a full day with the blue sky. The sun caved in. It’s time for the clouds to pour out their sweat. In the afternoon, during the sunset, we watched the tall buildings disappear into little dots. We’re going home.
We’re coming out to meet you.
In a few hours time, two aged sisters will finally see each other’s faces again. The long, hard days of loneliness will be broken by the calling out of familiar names by the home’s doorway. Each one of them will be reminded they are not alone, still, with the presence of a family. Both will stare at each other’s wrinkles after a long hug and a kiss. The flesh may wear out, but the heart will not.
We have long been blinded. It’s a propaganda that tarnished a beautiful truth, making us shy away from it as if it had some sort of contagious disease. We can’t blame them; they have given and lost. They bled dry of this marvelous feeling so that even sweet kisses formed a bad taste in the mouth, the warmth of embrace makes them cringe and shudder.
It was society who implied that love is a currency; something which can either be owed or repaid. For something so strong, so chaotic, there must be a kind of balance. It’s like putting fire inside a box and letting it stay there. Well, as if fire can be subdued.
I can’t lie to you; we humans enjoy a barter of feelings. We sell words and praises with the anticipation of getting them in return, hopefully from the same person. Emotions are investments. If the outlay looks bleak, we’d rather not venture giving anything at all.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
Pain is a difficult word. It speaks about blackness, the loss of hope, of the rotting of strength and the failing of the heart. It reduces joy to pieces, shatters dreams, setting up limits and makes us wiggle in a cage, crawled up with anxiety, depression and fear.
There are those who are always crowded
and those left alone
Quiet corners waiting
for an intimate company
like a conversation done in whispers
I wonder why I still feel alone
when I am here with you?
Would it be a bother to ask
to hold your hand
and make you stay
and linger for a moment?