She Weaves Me A Casket

etching meanings without words.
Weaving memories,
reaping love;
I mimic her tune.
Weaving magic.
Weaving beauty,
from the inside out.
She beckons me to watch with her,
the jubilant sun,
waking up from its slumber.
Beckoning me,
and I watch with her,
a routine.
I always find her there,
wishing the sun ‘good morning’,
as the morning slowly awakes,
stretching and yawning.
She weaves me into faith,
every night,
reciting prayers,
thanking God for the blessed life
He granted us,
and hope that we keep on
leading a blessed life
for many years to come.
Hope that we reap
many more years
of happiness.
She weaves tears,
and so do I.
I don’t want to leave her,
for a foreign world.
I want to stay.
I want to grow up,
beside her.
I yearn to see her again.
I long for her grandmotherly love.
I cry for her but to no prevail.
she weaves me a casket…
leaving me in the open,
by myself.
Wearing a white shroud,
I bury my tears,
my pain,
my soul,
under the earth,
hoping it will stay there.
She weaves me a casket,
closing me in between four walls,
abandoning me forever.

What Do You Call It?

What do you call it
When yelling into a canyon,
My voice distant,
my own echo does not even call back?
What do you call it
When you witness that I’m fighting my own battle
And no one’s there to lend me a shoulder to cry on?
When no one’s there to wipe my tears?
What do you call it
When you realize I want to break away from my caged heart,
But my wings are held in place?
Am I sprouting too early?
What do you call it
When my shadow finds out
It has been following a stranger
All this time?
Have I run out of time for myself
Or have time itself just begun to tick?
What would you call it
When silence beckons me
To sit alongside her
And be consumed into the darkness?
Am I a broken mirror
Into which no one takes a second look?
Tell me,
Can I be mended?
Will I ever get there,
That place where promises are meant to be kept?
Will I ever trust myself to be the person I was meant to be?
I hope so.