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Poems

Beauty

Abundant
It fills our streets
Blown around by the wind
Or splashed by fast cars

Don’t blink
It’s in the brief moments
Before and during
The familiar and the strange
Greet each other
You might miss it

It’s in the gleam of knowing eyes
In the air that fills lungs
Inhaled for life
And then expelled
Back into the ether

It weaves its way
In and around
Filling spaces of
Intentions and actions
Of the moving and the still
Of the enduring
And the eroding

As equally sought after
As it is misclassified
Misattributed
And overlooked
Eternally demanded
And damned

Noticing beauty
Takes a keen mind
Sharing it
Takes love
And creating it…
That takes courage

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Poems

Untitled

Eyes first meeting
Enchanted voice
Beauty and chaos
Delightful layers
Just a hint of tired
Well-hidden under a smile
Reaching out to soothe
What doesn’t appear to need it.

Not aware of depths
Counting breaths
How deep could they go?
Vanishing colours

The clouds passed
Resuscitation
And the sunshine
Sun-shone those depths
Unbalanced chaotic
Hurt with every stroke

They remember without connecting
At a standstill
A story ends
Without an ending

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Poems

“To my friends…”

I know you, friend,
I recognize my self in you,
Your countenance a canvas of your heart,
Or a parchment with ink bright red,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me,
Respect, dignity, and solidarity our shared language,
You have my gratitude.

It is so difficult to find you,
A necessity,
If it was so easy,
Then they would find us,
With their language of conformity and violence,
Copy-cats of blind majority,
Bent on propagating and steering,
We recognize the steps of their dance,
From a mile away,
We try to steer clear,
But sometimes our shared language,
Calls on us to act.

To the scoundrels,
I know you,
I recognize my self in you,
But that was an old self,
I left it behind long ago,
A fossil,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would hurt me,
For entertainment,
Or derived righteousness,
Humanity’s parroting scoundrel.

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Author’s note: I dedicate this poem to Sarah Hegazi (Rest in Power), a queer feminist activist from Egypt who recently passed away while seeking asylum here, in Canada, and to all who are navigating and surviving cruelness and systemic injustice.

Categories
Poems

Freedom

This beautiful bird,
Settling on a perch,
Colourfully bright,
With beak and bite,
And full of pride,
What a sight!

Here in this locked cage,
Again prepares her rage,
The fight of at least an age,
Well-worn this page.

She readies her stance,
For this next dance,
Her beak a sharp lance,
Eyes in a keen trance.

Moving swiftly into action,
Reduces her obstacle to a fraction!

This winged warrior,
Victorious in this skirmish,
Exits her prison with belief,
And with a sigh of relief,
Moves closer to freedom.

Finding comfort in larger bounds,
She claims the next perch,
And with keen eyes starts to search,
For the target of her next lurch.