521. Soar

I am not your victim.

I won’t run and hide.

I will stand up for the truth.

I’m on my own side!

I have had a hard life,

So you look down upon me,

But I’m not the rock under your shoe.

I’m the bird, flying high and free!

You may try to shoot me down,

To feel better about your place….

Planted firm upon the heavy Earth;

Yet, this is not the case.

Shooting me down won’t help you up.

Won’t loose one’s feet from the ground.

You want to know how to fly?

Make sure no one’s around…

To hold you down…to clip your wings…

To take the length and breadth,

Of the spirit which lies inside of you,

Full of hope and depth.

I am not your victim,

I won’t run and hide.

Shoot me down. I’ll get back up,…

For I’m on my own side.

K. Aldaya, 8/2/20

Picture: By Ryan Moreno on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/IcAtXrAZx8E

519. Midnight

photo-1532798369041-b33eb576ef16

What I used to fear, I now crave.

There is no escape, but for the grave.

The bitterness,…the human plight.

I’m as tired as sleepless night.

I cannot leave,…the night’s not o’er.

I am the moon, and the Earth, the floor.

I hover on high, watch and wait,

‘Til the day time seals my fate.

I will return to dust and light;

Yet until then, I must do what’s right.

I’ve loved too much to spurn my fate.

Sing a lullaby,… it’s getting late.

Go to sleep. There’s not to fear.

And when you wake, please shed no tear.

Within the light, I am still here.

K. Aldaya, 6/17/20

Picture: By Nick Owuor on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/wDifg5xc9Z4

383. The Soul is a Symphony

I wonder what people will say of me,

When I am finally gone?

Will they praise me for my honesty,

Or say that I was wrong?

Will they love my naked words,

Or loathe me as a whore?

Will they understand my words,

And why I always had to say more?

Will they say that I was sick,

Or plain and simply: pessimistic?

Will they think that’s all that made me tick?

That I was never optimistic?

After all is said and done,

I hope no one will ever say,

That I never cherished even one…

Earthly human day.

No one can help or change their path;

It is theirs to walk alone.

You’ll never understand that path;

The only path I’ve ever known.

Yet one thing I must make quite clear…

I crawled, lived, and fought;

And as much as I bore pain and fear,

Love is what I sought.

Beauty is more beautiful,

And happiness more divine,

When you know just how rare and wonderful,

It is to feel the sunshine.

To see flowers bloom each spring.

To watch children smile and glow,

And know that despite everything,

Love continues to nurture and grow.

I wonder what people will think of me,

When I am finally gone.

I hope they’ll realize how fully,

I felt and lived each dawn.

–For the soul is a symphony, not a song.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/17

Picture: https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/mood-girl-a-woman-hair-silhouette-loneliness-thought-meditation-of-mind-the-field-flower-flowers-flower-sunset-sun-night-background-wallpaper-widescreen-full-screen-widescreen-hd-wallpapers-background/id/348657/

57. When I’m Gone

When I’m gone the world will go on,

And nothing will notice my absence.

The birds will still sound,

In the mornings, resound,

Singing of lifes’ sweet enchantments.

The sun will still rise in the beauty-vivid skies,

Though I’m lost from it forever.

Years will pass by and not one will cry,

For the spirit that I once was.

Many will come when I am done,

And roll through this lifes’ course.

Never in seeing my faded being,

From many long years past.

Only a shadow, imprinted though;

Glimpsed as a daydreams’ phantom.

K. Aldaya, 4/22/04

Picture: Bachelor’s Grove Ghost Photo Taken in 1991 on an investigation by the Ghost Research Society using infrared film; http://graveyards.com/IL/Cook/bachelors/ghost3813x.jpg

23. The Strangers

Who are these things that live among us?

In the darkness. In the shadows.

Among the muss.

Are they good or are they bad?

Are they happy or are they sad?

Do they see us as we see them?

As mist. As emotions. As a transparent gem?

Are they like us with feelings and emotions?

Are they allowed to have such notions?

Who are these things that live among us?

In the darkness. In the shadows. In the hallways.

Near the dadoes. In the attics. In the basements.

In rooms toying with the casements.

Are they alone or are they in teams,

Or could they be the strangers that lurk in our dreams?

K. Aldaya, 4/18/02

Picture: Taken On September 19, 1936 by Captain Hubert C. Provand for Country Life Magazine; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Brown_lady.jpg