Passion…unbridled

What, I wonder, do I have to say

That has not been said until today

Is it worth stringing the ideas that crowd

My mind, into words, should they be allowed

To crystallize into prose or verse to add

To the plethora of writing that’s mediocre, or bad

Do my words have the potential to create

An impact on the reader, can they resonate

With someone, or would they fall flat

I have no way to predict something like that

I know what sells, but formulaic I cannot be

My words have to represent authenticity

*

I decide to put my thoughts on paper despite

This conundrum, the only way to fight

The monster of self-doubt that keeps raising its head

Is to actually write, whether or not it is read

My son (who had recently penned a story based on the Chernobyl disaster in Ukraine from two children’s perspective) has been really distressed to see the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and the perceived inability to stop it. This poem is for our children who take in everything.

We take bullying very seriously

We try to discipline a bully

And the ones who are bullied, protect

We teach our children self-respect

So with being bullied they learn to deal

Now they see how bullying is being revealed

On a world stage, as a megalomaniac drunk with power

Bullies Ukraine increasingly by the hour

And all the adults who sit in positions prominent

Watch haplessly at a devastating war imminent

They had told the children to not tolerate

Bullies, when faced with one, instead,

Of trying to fight they stand back

Placing worthless sanctions, without the nerve to hack

The unbridled aggression unleashed by the bully

The plight of the bullied Ukrainians our children see..

*

The world is manipulated by people with power

Is unfortunately the narrative of the hour

We tell our children to pray for the oppressed

But we fail to show them how the bully obsessed

With demonstrating his power we can restrain

I hope we can change the narrative again

And tell our children that bullying is neither going to be

Tolerated in school, or tolerated globally

(Sunflower is the national flower of Ukraine, hence the image)

February is the Black History Month, so let us acknowledge their contribution to the development of the United States of America

When you think of

The greatest nation

Do you remember

The faceless people

Men, women, children

Who had their masters’ backs

Whose labor broke their backs

Who picked cotton for them

Grew tobacco, boiled sugar

Stoked their hearths

Tended to their livestock

Tended to their children

While they left their own

Out in the fields

At the mercies of the masters

Do you remember

They made the backbones

Of plantations, businesses, homes

Blended in the background

Not even counted

As people whole, only

Three-fifth of one

Mocking the self-evident truth

All men are created equal

Three out of five

Is less than one..

*

The present is built

On the backbone

Of the unvarnished past

Acknowledge the backs

Broken and bent

So truth can stand

On a straight back

Trigger warning- this is a painful poem that describes the anguish of a parent who needs to give consent for a life-saving procedure for her child, something like a transplant, that is the child’s only chance to live, but comes with a long list of potential complications.

In a meeting room with walls that are bare

I sit, wringing my hands anxiously, aware

That as parents we are expected to pay attention

To take notes for reference, ask questions

But I am a nervous wreck as with my husband I wait

To be explained the life-saving procedure to change our child’s fate

This is the process of informed consent that we must go through

It suggests we have a choice but I don’t think we really do

*

The team before us seems well-versed in their spiel

Although the tone suggests the procedure is not a big deal

They go through major, sometimes life-threatening complications

In much detail, as I try to absorb the implications

Of undergoing this procedure- I wonder how other parents

After hearing these details are able to give consent

When so many things can go wrong, how do you choose

What is supposedly life-saving, when life you can almost lose

Especially for your child, how do you make this decision

How would you forgive yourself if there arose a serious complication…

*

As the information session comes to a conclusion

One message rings clear through this confusion

We are caught between a rock and a hard place

We cannot wish the disease away, we have to face

The reality that the choice is between death and a chance to live

And what parent on this planet would not that chance give

To their precious child, so our decision is made

We sign the consent and prepare to wade

In turbulent waters for the future foreseeable

We have to get through a challenge formidable

*

All the complications that in the realm of possibility reside

I clear from my head, I hope luck shall be on our side

I concentrate only on the procedure’s benefit and pray

That my child shall live to see many, many more days

It’s been a while since I crafted a story in verse. Here’s one!

In her fast-paced world with technology replete

Her time spent on the computer increased to complete

An ever-increasing list of tasks, work seemed to seep

Into home, vacation, leisure time and sleep

To get a break from this monotony she yearned

To find a creative outlet, a desire within her burned

To create something beautiful, a piece of unique art

That would prove therapeutic for her heart..

But in order to explore a medium creative

She needed time that she could not give

*

One day a flyer she spotted at the local library

Announcing classes on modern calligraphy

Conducted at the instructor’s home, in groups small

Intrigued , she decided she could explore this after all

*

Not many accomplishments she could claim

But she had good penmanship to her name

At least as a child, though she hardly wrote anymore

Her writing now was a scrawl compared to that before

Recalling how she used to write beautifully with fountain pens

She proceeded to buy her supplies, before the lessons she commenced

*

She started her first class with some trepidation

But a warm welcome made her overcome hesitation

Starting from scratch, she learnt how to hold the pen

Create loops, slants and ovals, and then

The magic of creative lettering came alive

With complete absorption she learnt to strive

To create uniform letters without smudging the ink

The painstaking attention to detail would not allow her to think

Of anything else, with each lesson she continued to refine

Her calligraphic skills, creating spectacular designs

*

That she had within her an artistic bone

Before calligraphy, she had never known

Now she practices her art every day

It is meditative, she would say

The flow of ink on a surface to create

Artistic letters, pent-up anxiety dissipates

Into her letters she imprints her heart

That, I’d say, is the essence of true art

In a world where we are still masking (especially in hospitals and clinics), sometimes not seeing someone’s facial expressions hampers interactions. I am strict about masking, but there are times seeing someone’s smile (or pursed lips as an expression of disapproval) helps. Oh, I know our eyes can convey smiles too, but sometimes botox hides the laugh lines around the eyes!

Did I miss something when I did not see

Your face, I did subject your uncovered eyes to scrutiny

Did the non-verbal cues I would otherwise perceive

Get missed, am I right when I believe

That our interaction was inadequate, incomplete

Despite both of us trying our best to repeat

Our words, to make sure we were understood

Changing our tone and inflection so we would

Be able to convey everything we wanted to

We used our hands, as a substitute too

As I prepared to conclude our encounter, dissatisfied

You removed your mask briefly, and gave a smile wide

That reassured me, you were not in misery or pain

Before we were back to being masked again

I take pride in my work and I desire

To make it perfect, I admire

Thoroughness in completing a task

Certainly no less I should ever ask

Of myself, because being flawless

To me epitomizes personal success

When all elements of my work fall in place

When each variable fits in an assigned space

I produce work of the highest quality I can provide

I bask in satisfaction that I feel inside..

*

In a tumultuous world with challenges new

My workload exponentially grew

The pursuit of perfection conducive was not

To dealing with the unexpected onslaught

Of work, and to strike a balance between the two

Relaxing my standards was something I had to do

Yet I think with trial and error I found

The best way to create an impact all around

My work was not perfect, but I would say

It was good enough in almost every way

By not focusing on perfection, I could do more

Something I had not realized before..

Robert Frost only had two roads from which he

Had to choose, I wish that would be the case for me..

Too many roads, too many ways, choices galore

What defines my world is the word “more”

Life is a complex maze of choices, further complicated

By the internet that leads to senses hyper-stimulated

Too many variables to analyze in an equation

Hard to reach a conclusion, or even derive the best estimation

I start down one road, but something shiny and bright

Often distracts me, questions of “what-ifs” ignites

I abandon my plan, set out a different path altogether

The one that holds the promise of something better

Even if on one road I manage to stay

The joy of my journey is taken away

By the promise of something superior in another direction

I am left analyzing repeatedly every action..

There seem to be no roads less traveled by somehow

As being unconventional has become the convention now..

*

My ancestors would think I am fortunate

To have a plethora of choices, to be able to dictate

What I want in life, but this privilege feels like a noose

At times, from which I want to cut loose

If I had one or two choices I would not face

Decision paralysis like I do these days..

*

Many roads diverged before me and I

I took the one most traveled by

Tried and tested, with surprises none

I couldn’t be more satisfied with my decision

The world appeared to be a dark place

In everything I did I seemed to face

Roadblocks, challenges, though small

Summed up they were taking a toll

On my patience, well-being and sanity

I felt I was trying to sprint on empty

Overly sensitive was I in every interaction

Everything I perceived as an infraction

Though convinced that physically I was well

A vague bodily discomfort I could not quell

I could only view the world from a pessimistic lens

I was ready to snap, I was so tense..

*

Before my world could crash and collapse

Before I lost my mind over tiny mishaps

My feet found their way to my bed on their own

They realized what I should have already known

Next thing I remember is waking up from a slumber deep

And the world was transformed after my restorative sleep

Besides having more energy I found

A change in my mood and outlook profound

The pessimistic hues had been replaced

With a silver lining my thoughts were laced

*

Days like this come in my life frequently

Following nights of hospital call, that inevitably

Lead to poor or no sleep at night

The next day I am locked in a fight

With the demon of sleep that alters my perception

Everything seems wrong with the world; this deception

Lasts invariably until I catch up on lost sleep

To hit the covers is a promise to myself that I must keep

When I feel the post-call blues overpowering me

I must remember that sleep is my therapy..

How do we erase the idea that nestles deep

In the collective consciousness of people, that keeps

The inferiority complex of the colonized perpetuated

Is passed through generations, the shame that’s never dissipated

Three-quarters of a century spent as a nation free

Colonialism continues to feed our psyche

Where privilege, class, education synonymous remain

With English, we are conditioned to look with disdain

At our own languages, as if to express

Ourselves in the “vernacular” would make us less..

Less sophisticated, less modern, less capable

Of achievement, of being valuable

Because value is a property of that club exclusive

To which belonged our colonizers, we aspire to their way to live

*

Why is it so hard to change the narrative?

Why do we not more credit give

To who we are, or who we could have been

If colonization for 250 years we had not seen

So systematic was the erosion of our self-esteem

That successive generations have not been able to redeem

Our pride in our culture, pure and unadulterated

It’s time to change how our success stories are narrated..

If you want to place the blame somewhere

To hold someone accountable, it seems fair

To blame the pandemic that has upended

All lives, led to consequences unintended

May I suggest, then, to pause right here

Acknowledge our frustrations and fears

The last two years challenging have been

In different ways for different folks, we have seen

Of anger and impatience, greater expression

We know times are hard, we should give concession

To those who are hurting, extend grace

Who knows what difficulties they continue to face

Two pandemic weary souls venting their distress

On each other are unlikely to make progress..

But if anger is met with grace and kindness

A path is forged together towards success

*

So if you come across someone whose emotions are high

Blame the pandemic, to give them some latitude you should try

I know you feel vulnerable here

You have an illness, and you fear

Being judged on any number of things

A doctor’s visit a sense of insecurity brings

You worry your lifestyle choices would be scrutinized

You inability to afford medications would be revealed to outside eyes

Your embarrassing indiscretions would come to light

All those demons you have to privately fight

Might be revealed, your health they adversely affect

You know you would be reminded of the ways you are imperfect..

*

As your doctor I cannot reassure you enough

I don’t mean to judge you, being a patient is rough

I just want you to be the healthiest you can be

All the constraints that you face, I can see

Many things are beyond my control, you should know

Drug prices skyrocketing, insurance coverage dropping low

I am willing to work with the limitations around you

The more I know, the more I can do

To help you reach the goal we share

I am on your side, please know that I care.