+(ve) = -(ve)

Sometimes, well on a daily basis, I’d log onto Facebook and read of the status of friends and quotable links on the public wall. Now we might assume that we can categorize people in two different categories. Well this is a general one i’m presenting here. The two categories would be those who are overtly depressive and those who are positive.

There is a truth in that. But the way I observe it, we’re all people who hurt. Based on the positive inspirational quotes we post to somehow boost our day or perspective, i’d say we’re all just hurting. I mean, you won’t be all pent up trying to be positive if you were somehow fighting not to be negative.

I’m not saying that it’s somewhat bad to be positive, i’m just saying that don’t be positive people who look down on people who do express their pain. Don’t look at them as weak. Like I said earlier, even in our positive stance we are in fact fighting some negativism inside.

We’re all hurting people. Yes, even the positive ones as well.

she looked at stars

NGC 602
Image via Wikipedia

she lay outside to see the stars,
they shimmered bright into the night,
they stayed transfixed there in her sight.

tried to forget what was that hurt her heart,
they made their home there in her thoughts,
she cried alone in what she sought.

what was it that broke her dreams apart,
the streams of tears they flowed,
as she lay there on the grass.

the color of her hope now fade to black,
her lifeless soul now shattered,
like a fragile glass.

time felt like eternity to pass,
she wished that she was free,
like a seagull soaring across the sea.

she made her gaze again, to look up to the stars
they still stayed bright there in the thickness of her night,
they stayed transfixed
and there they held her tight.

Father and Sons

WarriorNote: I recently watched a movie titled “Warrior” and to me it was superb. A dramatic tale of family tensions laid out on the canvas of a fighting tournament. So, if you haven’t watch the movie and not a fan of those people who write stuff about it, you probably don’t wanna read this post. But it’s not that I gave the story away (ok, just part of it that is). This is a poem inspired by a scene from the film and how I interpreted and reflected on it. The poem does not depict the whole movie but reflects on “in between moment,” or “the already and not yet.” 

they were at it
blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclot burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

Dad, he was a broken man
befriended by the drink
downing gallons of alcohol
we’d fear his haunting call

a broken chair
and touseld hair
dad was in a fit of rage
this time it was the final straw
as mom and both of us
decide to flee

but i was pulled in tensioned love
for family and a lovely dove
i chose to go another way
my heart was swept away

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

me and mom now all alone
no dad and brother tagged along
we tried to seek in darkness hope
but mom soon caughed out blood

i prayed to jesus
a miracle
that somehow he would mend the wrongs
my chorus was a played up song
and now my mom was dead

i soon inhaled the darkened brew
for joy breathed rest in peace
vowing not to ever turn

to those who did not look back

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

I am a broken man who stole away
innocense from those i cared
inside i drove my sanity out
and tore those close
apart

i seek forgiveness from my sons
my love she is all but gone
regret is buried deep in me
for i’m already changed

how hard it is to utter three
words those hurt receive
their wounds have borne the fruit of scars
my trust they read
deceive

and now as i see
before my eyes my boys
there in the ring
though some this is mere entertainment
in this i saw my sin

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
my sons there in the centre ring
i saw in them

the past in me.

comet

it feels like a comet
falling out from space
the dark sea spitting out
now what is seen

why from above
what hurled you to earth
what was it
that you did to deserve?

in majestic peaks above
what naked eyes long to gaze
how pitiful now
you’ve been uprooted from your place.

smashed to pieces in meteor rains
dashed to bits
hard rock disintegrates.

i feel like a comet
falling out from space
the dark sea spitting out
what is seen on my face

the ‘truth’ about a scar

Genähte Wunde am Rücken, vier Stiche. (sewed w...
Image via Wikipedia

What is hurt? Is it done by physical violence, a hitting or stabbing that causes the body to feel pain? I guess hurt can be that, when the body feels the rushing gush of information that comes from the brain, and tells the nerves to convey that there is something wrong. Hurt can be physical, and that would sometimes imply; what degree of hurt? By that I mean, some heal and do not leave a mark. some, which are far more serious leaves a serious wound, something like a knife cutting deep into the skin. This would definitely leave a scar.

Some hurts are emotional. In metaphorical sense, they work just like the above but the scars are glaring. It’s the memory that conjures the past to reemerge back up. Memories make an old pain new, in a sense that it mutates into a hideous wound again and again. These types of hurt take more time to heal. And on a sad note, they mostly never.

What control do we have on this type of hurt? Some succumb to the nagging memories that keep conjuring up. To somehow mend this wound, the hard thought of forgiveness must be called up. Why is it so hard to forgive? It comes back to memories again, memories that keep playing like that movie you watched and now gets played back in DVD format, because you bought the damn thing. We buy DVDs of movies we want to replay again so that we might remember, so that we don’t forget. Because we love the show or movie or whatever.

But why is it we love memories that conjure past hurt? We constantly play it back and somehow relive the previous events. That almost always relinquish the space for wounds to heal. I guess the tough act to forgive can bring gradual healing. It is applied each time a memory occurs. Memories are hard to erase because it’s somehow stored deep in our brain. We never do forget. I guess for hurts to heal and leave it at the state of just a scar takes daily amounts of forgiveness. Stated and reapplied in rote. I guess it never will stop, forgiveness is sometimes a never ending battle. But eventually enough forgiveness will leave the scar to heal and remain at that and not to become a gapping wound that will not heal.

I wrote this piece dated May 22, 2011. I gave a new title to it because reading through it again ,it does give the impression that the metaphor of the scar has the elements of “hurt, memories, forgiveness and healing” embedded in the original title I gave to the piece. I also did some editing to it as well.

remembering rightly

We cannot change what others think about us, but we can change what we think about ourselves.

We cannot steal another’s memories about us, but we can try to remember others differently.

As much as we’d like to erase the past, we are wired to remember, and the past will always be there, coming and reminding us in flashbacks.

But it’s better to not let the past rule our future. Let the past be cemented in flashbacks, but not embodied realities that determine whatever may come next. Like when the past tells us about our destiny.

To remember rightly the past, is to know that time is something fluid and moving, and whatever was is now buried, we mourn it’s passing and move on.

We cherish it’s short blessing and make toasts to what made our lives once filled with joys. We hurt whenever we think about how painful some ordeals were. The fact is that the past is not just filled with one form of narrative, or one theme. It’s mixed with both good times and bad. To remember rightly is to hold both these tensions together. Not everything in the past was a mistake, made by us or others. We redeem some form of the past by remembering that some were indeed good. And whatever was that hurt become goads that help us change into better people.