Passion…unbridled

Stacks of envelopes I retrieve from the mail

Wondering why I receive paper communication on this scale

Too many organizations vie for my purse-strings

But I’ve set up online payments for the most important things

At the end of an exhausting work day

Sifting through snail-mail seems a ridiculous way

To spend my evening, besides, mental capacity I lack

To read through each letter in this huge stack

So my mind burdened by an overload of information

Lets me take the easy way out in resignation

And I end up discarding summarily

Almost everything, unless my eyes happen to see

Something I should keep, to scan at a later date

Otherwise being shredded is my paper-mail’s fate…

*

Since most mail is inconsequential, my audacity

At throwing everything away is challenged infrequently

Every once in a while I miss a crucial payment

Or I miss the deadline for something imminent

For the next few days diligently through all mail I go

Before reverting to my usual habit of “ignore and throw”

I know none other than Confucius did say

If you love your job, you wouldn’t have to work a single day

Millions of people have taken this quote to heart, they try

To find jobs that they love, so they can apply

Their skills such that work does not feel like work indeed

It is engaging, interesting and fulfills a higher need..

*

In reality, though you may love your job holistically

Work is work after all, and can often be

Mundane, repetitive, uninspiring, or feel like a noose

Around your neck, test your patience or make you lose

Sight of your purpose temporarily, leave you feeling frustrated

Until an acute situation has resolved and the stress has abated

All jobs come with their rules and restrictions

Professional dealings are often marked by friction

Then work feels like work, tiring and burdensome

And an end to the workday is especially welcome..

*

I love my work most of the time, most days

But various stressors I face along the way

I can deal with them, but most definitely

Work feels like WORK, not leisurely activity…

(In many places around the world, curricula in history for schoolchildren are being “modified”. This poem reflects my take on this issue..)

It starts with an innocuous substitution

Or with a seemingly irrelevant omission

The language keeps changing in a manner insidious

With each iteration, until it becomes obvious

That the interpretation has changed dramatically

It means the opposite of what it should be

History in textbooks has been altered in a way

That the narrative is what those in power want to portray

These words are for impressionable minds intended

Far-reaching are the consequences of history books amended…

*

Just a few words can alter perception

Distort historical facts, replace them with fiction

We owe it to our children to let them learn what is true

To keep children away from sectarian agenda is what we need to do

Let me start by saying that I had no option but to choose

It was a hard choice, I knew I would lose

One thing or the other, and the choice I made

Reflected my priorities at the time, therefore I stayed

With my newborn child, put my promising career on hold

Working part-time from home would exclude me, I was told

From any possibility of future promotions or rise

In my career, why was I willing to compromise

Something to which I had devoted much time and effort

(Insinuations that I was taking away from “deserving” men did hurt)

Why did I not hire full-time help or rely

On grandparents, why did I not give it a try..

*

I do not think I need to explain how I prioritized

My child over my career, I am not surprised

That my choice would make people decide I was not

As committed to my career as they had thought

Sometimes I too wondered the same

In placing my career on hold, was I to blame?

Then I would look at my angel, and be reassured anew

That placing him above my career was the right thing to do

*

Now my child has grown, and I am ready to rejoin the workforce

I am prepared for re-training and tough questions, of course

I do understand when managers feel I should not be

In preference to those working without breaks, given an opportunity

Except, I am the same ambitious and sincere worker as before

Truth be told, after this break, I am motivated even more

As a mother, a different set of skills I have acquired

That can be applied to the workplace, in fact such skills are highly desired

*

I know my situation is not at all unique

There are many women out there who seek

To rejoin the workforce after needed breaks

To care for their children, as a society we need to make

Conditions conducive for motivated women for re-entry

Into the workforce, to give mothers this opportunity

So many have fought and found

A seat at the table, it is an accomplishment profound

Women, people of color, persons with disabilities

Are all supposed to find at crucial tables, seats with ease

Then why does representation still fall short?

Why are they missing more often than not?

There is a table to which they have a right

But is it accessible without a fight?

To enter rooms where such tables exist

Poses barriers too numerous to list

Getting a theoretical seat at the table does not ensure

That discrimination one would not have to endure..

*

There is a seat at the table proverbial

But in order to make adequate representation real

Let the voices of minorities make their way

Into the chambers of decision-makers today

Let the tables around which people deliberate

Be accessible to all, let them accommodate

Those who identify as minorities

Let the table have diverse voices, please..

Is happiness a person, a thing or a place?

Or an abstract concept that exists in mythical space?

Or an elixir in the depths of my consciousness

Should I dive deep within myself to find happiness?

*

How, I wonder, should happiness be defined?

Is it a state of contentment of the mind

A mind in a stable equilibrium between

The visible external world and the inner world unseen

With the ability to withstand both joy and sadness

Without losing stability in the process

*

As I pen these lines, I simultaneously try to evaluate

How I am feeling, how to describe my emotional state

I am not at complete peace though I cannot say

That I am bothered in any particular way..

*

Maybe the notion of happiness is arbitrary

Let me decide right now that I am happy

Instead of happiness being an abstract notion

It is now a palpable, tangible emotion!

(This poem started as my reaction to a news segment on Greek wildfires that have claimed the lives of some asylum seekers.)

No one likes to let outsiders in

And that is where the argument begins

Against immigration, an issue that evokes

Strong reactions, often provokes

Resentment, anger, marked division

Among citizens in terms of their opinion..

*

Yet migration is a way of life natural

How can arbitrary borders limit the fight for survival

For many immigrants fearful for their lives

Immigration is their only hope to survive

Facing untold perils to immigrate

Is a measure taken by those truly desperate

Granting political asylum to those in need

Is essentially a humanitarian deed

*

Some immigrants migrate not out of necessity

But because of the dearth of opportunities

In their parent countries, they immigrate

Based on merit, and integrate

Into communities in new nations

Doesn’t everyone benefit from such immigration?

*

I am an immigrant, and all I can say

I am grateful for the opportunities that have come my way

In my adopted country- my success I owe

To both the countries that have let me grow

I hold myself responsible to never let

My adopted country down, to never give anyone reason to regret

Opening the doors to let me in, let me acquire

Citizenship, to let me pursue the goals I desire

In a vacuum you cannot write

You cannot come up with ideas bright

Out of nothing, your writing you have to base

On your experience, you have to face

Issues unresolved that float inadvertently

To the surface, forcing you to see

The untold secrets you harbor, once again

Stir up feelings that cause intense pain..

*

Sometimes while writing, past issues you can evaluate

From a third person’s view, stay dispassionate

When this happens writing can be

A deeply cathartic process, a form of self-therapy

At other times writing dredges up everything that you

Have tried to forget, bury deep in your heart too

When your unresolved issues remain

Unchanged- convoluted, chaotic, full of pain

Your writing journey does not lead

You to healing, your wounds continue to bleed

But you realize further effort you would require

Before freedom from your pain you can acquire..

*

Sometimes characters depicted in a negative way

Resemble people you know, you know one day

They might read your book, bringing to an end

Your relationship with them, you would not be able to defend

Why your characters resemble them the way they do

Your writing could unknowingly hurt them too

*

If you want to write in an authentic voice

You do not really have a choice

But to bring up secrets uncomfortable

Conflict makes a story intriguing and readable

So write your first draft, unvarnished

Then revise it before you try to publish

Re-read and learn what your writing tells you

About yourself and others too..

(Self-prescription)

How did we go wrong on something so basic

One of the key factors making us sick

Is lack of quality sleep- we tend to equate

Productivity to staying up and working late

Sleep is for the weak, those who are destined to succeed

Must be able to thrive with few hours of sleep indeed

Burning the midnight oil is accepted as the norm

Despite abundant evidence that people perform

Worse on all measures of higher function

Without adequate sleep-impaired is their cognition

We know fatal and costly errors have been made

By sleep-deprived souls, yet we have stayed

With the idea that in order to succeed

To labor late into the night is what we need..

*

We are a mass of human beings perpetually sleep-deprived

Who are irritable, overweight, chronically ill, and yet who strive

To forego sleep to achieve every imaginable goal

While lack of sleep relentlessly takes its toll

On our bodies, minds, relationships, and more

When medicine and therapy are futile, why don’t we explore

The healing effects of something as simple as sleep

And hit our beds earlier, for sleep restorative and deep

Your dear friend has just accomplished a feat

Getting a book published is pretty neat

You, as a reader and a loyal friend

Buy the book immediately, you intend

To make it a priority to read it, it’s obvious

That to know what your friend has written, you’re curious

*

You start the book, quite excited but find

The book does not really engage your mind

The plot seems amateurish, the writing too verbose

You stick with reading, but cannot wait to close

The book after the last chapter is read

You feel a bit let down, you are not impressed

Then you remind yourself that your friend

Deserves to be applauded for this effort, you must extend

Grace to them-seasoned authors most of the time you read

But everyone starts somewhere indeed

*

You send a message to your friend that you

Have read the book, and enjoyed it too

Of course the way things work these days

Your friend requests you to post a review, that’s the way

A book gets noticed, and authors make their name

You cannot refuse a contribution to your friend’s fame…

*

You see there are only a handful of reviews, they are all positive

Even under a pseudonym, you are afraid you cannot give

An honest review, because your friend would instantly know

That it came from you, it could hurt their feelings, and so

You give 4.5/5 stars, then try to write a detailed review

Trying to focus on what you really liked, but that’s hard to do

So you end up using the generic terms you use

To respond to social media posts and photographs, you refuse

To put in complete lies and you decide at the end

You would not review another book by a friend…

*

There is a reason why conflict of interest is a thing

Honest opinions can cracks in relationships bring…

Art is a mirror and always has been

Of the society, bringing to life unseen

Facets of prevailing social mores

In clever disguise, questions art can raise

About social activism, morality and justice

For change, art can in many ways be a catalyst…

*

Sometimes artists say merely what they want to say

Sometimes the prevailing zeitgeist they portray

Though you expect freedom of artistic expression to be

An undisputed fact, often it is different in reality

Many artists feel compelled to check boxes that are right

They bow down to the powerful folks’ might

And modify their art to be politically correct

For fear of being canceled, their art does not reflect

Their true sentiments that are sacrificed

In the era of cancel culture, art pays the price

*

Art that has to bend to conform to rules arbitrary

Is no longer true art, on the contrary

It becomes a vehicle for the dominant narrative

You see a warped image of the artist’s true perspective..

*

When a work of art appears too neat

The very purpose of art it defeats

You may applaud it for its contemporary appeal

But you would not know how the artist truly feels…

I want to grow, but I do not know

What growth would mean, I have been

Trying to find a way such that I can stay

Perpetually inquisitive, as long as I live

*

At a hurtling pace, life I seem to face

Limited does time appear, therefore I fear

If I paused to learn, precious minutes I would burn

If I lagged behind, that would occupy my mind

Learning, I believe, would be difficult to achieve

Being busy conducive is not, to giving something new much thought

*

How much time would I need, I must figure out indeed

If I handle my time with care, perhaps I can spare

Fifteen minutes every day, spent intentionally in a way

That I learn something new, it is however true

That I would have to concentrate, I would have to dedicate

My focus complete, to learning, so I don’t defeat

The purpose behind exercising my mind

To learn and grow, hopefully I would know

If it’s a good strategy, if it works for me…

*

Change takes time and patience, but these short bursts intense

I hope would make a difference, add up to something immense