Identity 5 : Preservation

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Preservation

Next time a thorn is in your side

Don't hesitate to pull it;

It'll hurt like hell, but soon you'll see
How you've dodged a bullet.

Roses come with thorns, they say,

And redden with lifeblood;

Hence the timid falter

To nip that blooming bud.

When, next time, the light beckons
But you need a place to hide,
Listen no more to trite advice --
Embrace the dark with pride.
Symbols etched in golden hue
Will put your toes to line
But it's worth a few stubbed toes
If the ground is fine.
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Identity 4 : Marks

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Marks

You have seen so many lands
And trod on many stars --
Always bitten, forever shy;
The road has left its marks.

Your father's cuff-links, stained with ink;
Your mother's burning heart
Have made you, destiny's own child,
Your people's work of art.

Marbled glass in dreamlike hues
Hit the ground and squeal;
But, in the cloud of holy smoke,
The Chosen One is still.
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Identity 3 : The Hidden

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The Hidden

At the stroke of midnight

The weary flee the floors;

Pride holds back the dreams you had

That follow out the doors.

Games are played and names are changed,

And three old childhood friends

Give way to newer meanings that

See them to their ends.

I will find a little place,

A small world of my own --

And there I'll seek the peace that comes

To those that weep and mourn!

But far and few, the fresh and new

Will see me dancing on:

In steps and swirls and risky whirls,

Braving dusk and dawn.

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Identity 2 : Lost In Translation

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Lost In Translation

To stare at backs of necks
And wonder what could be,
To raise a hand that never lands,
Believing, c'est la vie.

There's grandeur to be found
In meeting fate's decree,
In playing the old violin,
Singing, for c'est la vie.

A better woman leaps
For faith can set you free;
And here I am, flying because
Someone said, c'est la vie.
==================================

Our movie club screened Vivre Sa Vie. It was interesting. Review may or may not follow.

Identity 1 : Thinly Veiled

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Thinly Veiled

Air

Between branches

And in lungs

Of the dead and the dying;

Breeze

In greener boughs

And grandmother's tales

And lovers' lanes;

Wind:

In Kenneth's willows,

As panic strikes

Numbed pain;

Gales!

Every day in farms,

And fresh residue

Of the outbound;

Storms:

Outdone only

By old hearts that find

Very little in names.

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Hat tip to The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame, one of my favourite books of all time.