“I love you and only you You fill my heart in every way I will be but a shell if you Call it quits and leave me some day” Said the man with the twisted lips As he held her close, hands on her hips He’d done this a lot and then changed gears The words felt absurd even to his own ears.
She looked into eyes that were gleaming with fire Was it hope, was it love, was it lustful desire? The three entities then followed behind As she walked into the space of her heart and her mind There she sat them down, the judicious sleuth And looked into their faces now lit up with truth Hope sat there wilted, there was hardly a trace Of sincerity and faith on its mottled face Love was like a wraith of its radiant self Like old dust that had drifted off of the shelf Smouldering away in the furthest corner With sly little tentacles sat covetous Desire It looked at her trying to hide its true hues But in the light of the soul that was hard to do
She lifted the heavy hands from her hips Bestowed a smile from her beautiful lips “I suppose I should say a heartfelt thank you But I won’t, those words, they just don’t ring true”.
I saw a man at a street vendor’s today He was engaged in the enterprise of buying fruit His expression was a breath short of displeased He wanted a bargain; he planned to depart with his loot. The air conditioned grocery store was his next stop Where he paid three times as much for some shrivelled carrots. I watched these transactions in the street and the store The poor man got swindled; the rich just made more I watched capitalism play out its gory game But I just watched, my mouth was scotch-taped.
I saw a runner deliver food today To someone in a swanky neighbourhood The man came out, took his food, turned around The rider waited a while, staying where he stood But the man had disappeared into the embrace Of his upmarket condo, his ultra elegant space Discretionary income was for parties and clothes Doling out tips was for mass market folks I watched these Economics of One play out But I just watched, my hands were bound.
I have seen these and many more Unbalanced, unequal, sad acts of trade The shiny big ones always splashed with largesse The small, modest ones always selfishly made. The serendipity of kindness and grace The simplicity of a helping hand Are like ships that we have lost at sea Broken pieces now and then washing up on the sand. I watch these exploits crush and agonise But I just watch, I am paralysed.
I see a woman standing at the traffic light Even in her shabbiness, she’s neat and clean She stands on the wayside wondering For the hundredth time what she is doing on the street. People look at her from their car windows A nonchalant glance up and then away Their psycho-social barriers Comfortingly coming down to save their day From unpleasant pangs of conscience As they niggle at the edges of their minds The world is troubled, their impact small Sometimes it’s just better to be blind.
She looks at the faces in the cars Indifferent, unseeing; wishing her away She clutches the hem of her tattered shirt Picks up the gumption to still walk their way She looks at a lady who hasn’t averted her eyes The shame is too much and she swallows hard Even so, she manages a faint little smile Hoping for kindness, compassion, regard The lady looks up, seeing her for the first time She’s irritated, she’s irked for letting her guard down Beggars, pleaders of various requests Destroy her peace of mind, she frowns.
She waves a dismissive hand at the sight And looks away, she will not lock eyes Maybe the beggar will go to the next car With her chafing, imploring enterprise The woman feels the withering blow As she hurriedly backs away from the car The wounds in her heart are bleeding anew Everyday there are fewer healing scars She stumbles back onto the foot path Eyes stinging with hopelessness and fatigue This world seems done with the likes of her She too is done with her destiny.
I carry this thing, it sits on my shoulder Some call it a chip; I call it my boulder It gnaws at my insides, it makes for low blows When I’m swirling around in its treacherous throes
I am sometimes deceitful when I feel its weight Dignity and grace I cavalierly leave at the gate If it tells me I’m worth nothing, that I’m wretchedly small I’ll lash out blindly at one and all
I grew up believing this weight that I hold Of inflated egos and machismo bold Is an age old legacy that’s been bestowed From father to son and from son down below.
With time, it has morphed into an ugly avatar Sometimes the pricks of conscience are stark But driven by habit and custom and time I let my massive chip drag me into the grime
I’m weaving this rhyme when I’m feeling lucid And can see the chip: festering and putrid Most times though it pokes me with its manly muscle: I could murder that person who honked at my Honda Vezel!
And so I go blundering and blustering through life Ego in one hand; in the other an invisible knife When my shoulder can’t bear the weight of the chip I unburden, I plot and I rage. I’m insidious.
Almonds and walnuts, cholocate and ginger All share the colour that I am Woodchucks that chuck wood, baskets and bagels I am the colour of a beaver dam
I am the colour of the moose and the swaying camel The ruddy duck and the wolverine, Wood and toast, I am the colour of roast The garden snail and the centipede
I am the colour of the giant fin whale And of your sweet little sun-kissed face I may even be the colour of the desk on which All your favourite books are placed
I am the colour of well loved teddy bears Bearded dragons and kiwi birds I am all around, from beige to BROWN I am the beautiful colour of the earth
I am the colour of cherry blossoms And of the beautiful magnolia I’m like the onion, chopping which is no fun I’m also like the flesh of the guava
Himalayan salt and the Pygmy seahorse Are the colour of your little tongue Which is the same as the river dolphin I am also the colour of bubble gum
I am the color of lychees and the guppy fish Turnips and the galah cockatoo I am also the colour of some sea anemones They don’t have brains like me and you!
I’m the colour of ripe raspberries Of the lotus and the carnation I am the hints of health on your little face I am the delicate colour pink
Mahvash Mohtadullah 