Indian Boy

Indian Boy
I could see us
Running wild
In the sands of the Gobi,
Me, wrapped in the finest of silks
And around your finger.
I can hear us
Whispering in each others ear,
Remembering the day we met,
Eons ago,
Somewhere we can’t even recall,
Staring at each other,
Like we knew then, what we know now.
I can taste our love,
Like Swiss chocolates
and spicy Indian dishes,
Lingering on my tongue
Like the kiss you just
blessed me with.
I know your scent
Like fresh-cut grass
And the seashore.
I feel you within me
All over and through me,
beside and inside me,
Right where you should be.
You exist in my mind
Where my senses bring you to life
To create an unparalleled love that may never come to fruition,
But will live evermore in my imagination.

***

Pioneer of the Night

Breathless…
from racing for a boat I do not want to miss.
The thing is, I’ve jumped aboard without ever knowing where the final destination is.
This unknown voyage, which I’ve embarked upon,
Is leading me blindfolded, shackled and now, even my voice is gone.
I feel like a foreigner, here in my own land.
Living through a coup d’etat led by one man,
Who’s imposed Martial Law
on the way I live, work, sleep, and breathe,
and day after day, I find myself needing this life I’ve been forced to lead.
I’m learning a new language
When I barely know my native tongue.
I’ve assumed a new identity,
Of a woman who needs to feel like one.
So now, I call myself Pandora, in honor of Hope;
The end is supposed to justify the means, but will it make me whole?

***

What happened to Hope?

Word on the street is she is missing in action.
I am here to find her and bring her home.

Hope, they say, was last seen in a land where their gold is black-
At least that’s what my TV told me.
The last time I opened a newspaper,
I swear I saw her face in the obituaries.

Could she have been defeated?
Weary from competing with fear that always followed footsteps,
Too weak to fight death dancing at doors?

Imagine Hope growing tired of hushing the cries of children
And wiping away the tears of their mothers.

I am still trying to understand-
What happened to Hope?

If anyone sees her, please, tell her the day she left,
She took with her the light that shone on even the darkest corners of the earth…
And now, no one even knows we’re there.

Tell her, her absence has made it easier for people to turn a blind eye to suffering,
For believers to stop believing.
Tell her I dare her to prove them wrong.

What happened to Hope?

Does she realize that Liberia,
A place she gave birth to–long before whips became unbearable–
Is being gang-raped before a global audience,
The victims lying dead in the streets.

Tell her to run o! Ya’ll tell her to make haste.

Let her bring with her the scent of solidarity, dignity and liberation,
To cover up the stench of decay, disease and devastation.
Tell her to bring food for thought-
And for children hungry for a new life.

What ever happened to Hope?

How could she have forgotten the forsaken?
What could have possessed her to bail out on her beloved?
Wasn’t she the one who taught us survival?
Wasn’t she capable of erasing boundaries to make the impossible seem probable?

I refuse to believe Hope isn’t alive and well somewhere,
Just preparing for her return.
A resurrection that dusts away the cobwebs of denial,
Condemns the disregard for humanity,
And cleanses misery from souls.

‘Cause you see, Hope has got to be more than just another word,
Some clichéd notion we throw around just because we can.
Hope means more to some of us than others,
Simply because our livelihoods oftentimes depend on her.

She gives us the strength to fight back, to speak up,
To rise and face adversity and injustice.
She breathes life into inevitable movement and evolution.

Hope gives us a fleeting glance
At a chance for peace.
And the will to trade another suffocating today
For a better tomorrow.

I believe this kind of hope is woven into the fabric of life.

And if we’ve lost her, and Hope lives no more.
Tell me, what now, do we have to live for?