The wave, it washes o’er,
And pulls me out to sea,
Yet how can I swim away?
When the ocean is me?
I can not stop the flow,
Of thoughts through synapses;
Nor the depths therein which drown…
Moments in lapses…
…Of consciousness.
K. Aldaya, 5/20/21
Picture: By Velizar Ivanov on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/UoALJojNPcs
One day when I was a young girl I came home from school.
I walked into an empty kitchen and removed a piercing tool.
It’s hard to explain how one comes to make such a decision,
And who can truly understand without expansive inquisition.
It was not a fleeting thought; nor was it to be my last…
Thinking that if things be planned by God, then my die had long been cast.
My life could only lead to one inevitable end.
No matter what I wished could be, my life I couldn’t defend.
I waited a minute, and then another, thinking on death and life.
I stared off thinking how thin the line is, such as the blade of a knife,
Then I took a breath, closed my eyes, and lied down on my bed.
Seconds feel like hours with the knowledge that you’ll soon be dead.
I held the tool against my heart listening to the sound:
Budump. Budump. Budump. Budump.
Pound, and Pound, and Pound!
As tears washed down my face like a tidal wave of doom,
I looked away from the rising climax, to the ceiling of my room.
I bitterly cursed the light above, which had failed to shine my way,
And had left me in the darkness from my earliest remembered day.
As the tension rose within and pushed the arms to act,
A clang-clang, clang-clang, clang-clang…spurned every muscle within to contract!
The drawstring on the light above, weighted on it’s tip had swung to the glass above it,
And hit………………..and hit………………………and hit!
My breath was gone, and my thoughts replaced,
With how this could logically be the case.
How something could move so eagerly without a hand in sight.
It had never happened once before, and never again after that night.
Why I was not to die that day I may never know the reason;
Though I’ve learned from life that for everything there’s a time and a season;
And for some reason something or someone in this vast universe,
Wanted me to be here now, to write for you this verse.
To tell you that I was once there,…walking that line ‘tween life and death,
And I’m here now to tell you that there’s much more length and breadth.
Life has it’s ups and downs, and neither’s more important.
Each breath and second that is lived is what’s most significant.
In ways one can not fathom in this form of blood and bone.
Simply remember the universe is endless, you’re important, and you’re never truly alone.
K. Aldaya, 1/13/21
Picture: By Greg Rakozy on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/oMpAz-DN-9I
I long to write, though who will listen,
To the rantings of the insane?
The title merely grants invisibility;
And a face without a name,
In the coliseum of civility.
I wander through the crowds,
In the stands, where spectators watch,
As warriors and politicians,
Earn another scar or notch,
In the holding of their positions.
I stretch my hands out for scraps,
As they shoo me out of sight;
Though from here I see it all,
And know that none of this is right…
And soon all of us will fall.
Be it by starvation, wound, or pride.
We are all part of the show.
I may seem but a distraction,
Yet I’ve gone where others can not go;
And seen every angle of inaction.
For they play their parts quite well,
And the world moves to their plans.
I’ve seen every move and collapse,
As money changes hands,
And they fall in the same traps.
From the outside, I look in,
Year after year…Sin after sin.
I hold my voice, and hold my breath.
No one’s listening, so who can win?
We stand aside until death.
I look at you. Do you see me?
Are you looking? What do you see?
God’s play games, as day absconds.
Are you a God, or are you me?
Do you play games with human pawns?
For who can win an endless game?
And who can fight our mortal fate?
Though, in my eyes you’d find the sun,
So listen well, it’s getting late.
This entertainment is not fun!
And this game you can not win!
The only money, worth it, to spend,
Is found in the outstretched hand.
For the show continues long after curtain descends…
And only in the heart of another could you understand,…
All we have is each other in the end.
K. Aldaya, 10/7/20
Picture: By: Jorge Fernandez Salas on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/hvxJ2cnecd4
“Put on the mask!
It’s okay if it’s hard.
You’ll learn to love pain.
Death by suicide’s better,
Than a virus strain!
Put on the mask!
No one cares if you die,
Unless it is Covid,
Then, “It’s tragic!”, they cry.
Put on the mask!
It’s not a right to breathe.
If we want you to suffer…
You’ll go along…..Put it on!
Comply: “Yes, Sir!”
Put on the mask!
So death can not find you.”
(Though no one can offer such a guarantee)
Yet, with the states hands o’er your face,
It makes it hard to see,
All the people dying, internally.
K. Aldaya, 8/4/20
Picture: By Tai’s Captures on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/Lhb-zwQ-QGI
Hold fast to today,
For it flits and it flies,
Up on and away…
Into the vast skies,
Of yesterday.
Where all of us go,
When we leave and grieve,
In the long ago,
As writer’s weave,
And stories sew.
K. Aldaya, 8/3/20
Picture: By Dmitry Ratushny on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/O33IVNPb0RI
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 