Life's Essence

By Karen Aguiar

Be like a pearl in the mire,

And steal the thunder,

Or be a spark in fire,

Like the glory of nature.

Be the lawn that grows ,

And leaves that swing,

Like white water that flows,

And angles who sing.

Be like a silver treasure,

Or grapes turning into wine,

Bright sky without measure,

With stars of mighty shine.

Fresh as the soil from earth,

Firm as a weapon so sharp,

Like every dew drop birth,

Or a pillar with no warp.

Irresistible as the sun,

A drop in the rain shower,

Like the endless run,

Or a blooming flower.

YOU WILL GROW THROUGH IT!

(A poem to my 2 year old son)

Like a flower in the desert,

You will grow through it.

In the cruellest weather,

You will stand through it.

It’s not enough to survive,

I want you to bloom through it.

Under the blazing sun,

May you fight through it.

Of the colours inside you,

Nurture through it.

Times which are rough,

You'll sail through it.

I can't always be with you,

I have things to do,

The lonely to love,

The needy to serve.

Times when I am away,

Remember,

who you are,

The strength I give you,

The blessings upon you.

Thick & thin you'll get through it,

Be grateful for all you have,

And you will grow through it!

IS IT POSSIBLE?

Can you quench a thirst with fire?

Or can the rain dry away its water?

Can moonlight be seen at dawn?

Or the sunrise at dusk?

Can the sea start talking?

Or fishes start walking?

Can stones become gold?

Or can snow melt in the cold?

Can hills and mountains be born with wings?

Or can birds become non-living things?

Can the wind stop its breeze?

Or can stars fall on trees?

Can the sky touch the ground?

Or can a better earth be found.

IS IT POSSIBLE? ? ?

A DREAM OR REALITY

At a glance, I saw the luster of stars,

Some cried, some smiled but all stayed for hours.

One shining star came down to me,

That only I could see.

“Wish For What You Want”, it said,

To the world of fantasy I was led.

I wished for a little peace in this world,

So everyone can gain happiness that is true and real.

The star took me to the sky and gave me a box,

On finding its key I opened the lock.

But as I was opening the box, I fell down,

Under my bed, I was found.

My eyes opened with great difficulty,

And I said “Was It A Dream Or Reality.”

YOU FORGOT TO SAY GOODBYE

(A poem about a son who left his parent’s house forever without saying goodbye)

The firewood,

Reminds of the childhood.

Your mind, hard like it,

But, no flame being lit.

A glass broken fast,

Could hardly ever last,

And so this relation fragile,

Could never become gentle.

The strong wall,

To you did call,

But you hardly heard,

Even to the last word.

The top high roof,

Was a proof,

Of you, to take care,

And with you to share.

The unbreakable steel,

So difficult to deal,

But you had not even looked,

To the last meal cooked.

Again you never came,

Your heart became lame,

Your mind is full of shame,

Now you even hate your name.

In your act,

You showed us the fact,

By committing a smaller sin,

Because you could never win.

I hope you will read this page,

With a lot of courage,

And, I wrote it why?

Because, you forgot to say goodbye.

SON, YOU DON’T HAVE TO FIGHT

{A poem written on behalf of a man who could not become a better Father than his own Son}

Years have passed, and I’ve realized how you’ve grown,

Moments were spent when your best efforts were known.

You fought those obstructions I used to bring,

And you tried even harder to prove better things.

When you were young, you began to shine,

Your abilities this world could find.

But, for me to recognize you, it took time,

Sorry Son, for I was blind.

A little more you managed to learn,

Without me you stood on your feet to earn.

You now stand differently among the crowd,

Son, you’ve grown alone, I’m proud.

My life is almost over, yours has just begun,

I advise you son, don’t do the things that I’ve done.

I am happy and overwhelmed when you stand by,

Because a better father was never I.

You worked harder for your skills to dwell,

Even when I had destroyed your plans.

But now to you I can proudly tell,

Son, you don’t have to fight to be a 'Man'

Even what more than I can,

You have become stronger, you are brave.

You’ve proved to be a better man,

To take me to my grave.

ELEVEN/SEVEN

(11/07/2006 Mumbai city train bombings)

On an unfaithful track,

So many lives running,

Within few seconds the attack,

Found those lives burning.

The city our home place,

Became a lost land,

It left no trace,

For us to understand.

All smiles cried their tears,

The unity brought separation,

Lost the ones dear and near,

Who Left no sign or impression.

Broken windows & doors,

Had drops of blood,

Of which a river poured,

And then a flood.

Cried out those hearts,

By nature so innocent.

Their lives tore apart,

For whom the act wasn’t meant.

From the bodies of the dead,

Separated the hands, legs and head,

Few on their eternal bed,

Laid between hell and heaven,

On the day of eleven/seven.

UNBALANCED LIFE

Some War, Some Peace,

Some Trouble, Some Ease.

Some Unite, Some Separate,

Some Early, Some Late.

Some Less, Some More,

Some Rich, Some Poor.

Some Love, Some Hate,

Some Move, Some Wait.

Some Lose, Some Win,

Some Good, Some Sins.

Some Work, Some Rest,

Some Worst, Some Best.

Some laugh, Some Cry,

Some Live, Some Die.

Some Seek, some Find,

Some Weak, Some Kind.

Some life here and there,

Where? Where? Where?

GOD AND MAN

When God made man, he decided,

“Let me shower gold and silver that’s treasured”.

And having this line recited,

He gave man more than he measured.

God said, “Let me give man everything,

And he would remember me,

Let me, to him bring,

True happiness that could be”.

God bestowed upon this earth,

All the gifts and riches,

So that man enjoys in every birth,

And fulfils all his wishes.

All that’s needed man achieved,

All that’s required man received,

God succeeded in completing his plan,

But now, God has lost the love of man.

LEFT ALONE AMONG THE CROWD

(A poem about abortion/miscarriage)

Never did I dream,

I wish I could before it came,

But till I heard my scream,

Over was the game.

A rose in enchained thorns,

A voice was dead and sealed,

Even in dusk or looming dawn,

Not an inch healed.

Though my bones bite now,

And scourging blood burns,

But I know somehow,

A reward silence earns.

Within the crust so fatal,

Silently hides a storm,

Inner self still fought a battle,

Killing sense of the unborn.

By Karen Aguiar