Eyes of Molten Steel

how do I paint the world
that breathes inside me?
staid colours
cramped brushes
walled palettes
belonging
to another world,
all speak half truths,
when there are so many colours,
containers and strokes,
that have never been seen
by eyes trapped in pupils
straining to see
only the visible,
even in a changing
invisible world
lit up by eyes
of molten steel.

Strength

when you told me that I was strong,
I asked myself what that would mean:
was I strong like a banyan
propped up by its many roots
that stand long after the tree is gone?
was I strong like a blade of grass
curved and pressed to the earth
by the soles of your heavy feet,
only to rise again after you have passed?
or was I strong like that little flower
who nodded her head
to every passing sunbeam and storm?

Palm Tree

stand tall
head up
arms open always
like that palm tree
that stays out
in the wilderness;

there is no need
to sway
to stoop
or dance
to another's tune,
even if the world
sees that as strength;

there is a need
for you
to be simply 'you',
so full
of your arrogant
confident self, yet
open to Life
and her mysterious ways,

with no urgency
to scramble
for the distant sun
who dances with your
pointy fronds too,
urging you onward,
to bear your own fruit.
The world is waiting for you.

The Little Sailboat

the little sailboat
rides the swell
of a tipsy ocean
sprawled out
beneath
a sober neon sky.

its destiny
is written
not by the
parched white sails
of defiance
billowing and
cutting through
waves and wind,

but rather
in knowing that
when it is
absolutely still,
the breath
of the whole cosmos
fills its sails,
and guides it
towards
the distant horizon.

strength lies
in knowing
when to be still,
so you are moved.

The Wind Beneath My Wings

you bring the sweet fragrance
from silent flowers,
you bring the magical love
from distant stars,
you bring the songs
from happy dancing trees,
you bring the tears
from a lonely cloud at sea,
you bring the stillness
from sacred mountains of yore,
you flow in slowly
through my every pore,
you move mountains,
you whip up rivers,
you churn the oceans,
you hold up a quiver;
why then do I fear to let go?
with you beneath my wings,
I can only soar...