he kicks in the womb…
these words have fought
in a trance of thought
they have refused
denied the coming together
of emotions tied to a womb
that grows in bloom
against the seasons birth of
new fragrances painted unto
flowers of destined memories,
engraved in the front lobes
of a scheduled train stop
never a minute late
giving space to bodies walking
in steps of unison
up the stairs to a journey
against cold winds
to four-walls of comfort
pulled back like an embraced
lover with chilled lips
this kiss reminds us of the love
formed in the making of this
manifesting womb
but letters have run around in a carrousel
in a dizzy slumber of child-like happiness
and musical affairs
how could we find struggle in the making
of words when life-bodies and souls
come into formation
against forces of nature
or was it nature’s plan all along
to break through walls within us
to cancel plans
alter destinations
re-direct intentions
into new paths
of complex prescriptions
unto journeys of new steps
outlined by a societal expectation
that this too will pass
as we celebrate our re-birth
in years that come together in
the marital bounds of days that
leave us empty handed every night in our slumber
and no matter how we try
weakness shall remain within us
in the refusal to stare the bare-ness
of mirrors that elude truth in its imagery
and so we stop
digging within
we give moments minutes to meditate
its current affairs
against news-reels
that connect us to a global urgency
we reflect unto chaos
disconnected from heart beats of life
once mourning a sister or father
not realizing
our energies gives power
to the continued rubble that falls
from mountains held so strong
against the painful pounds of tomorrow’s thunder
that light in the sky
may hold the hope that keeps your heart pumping
and the fear refusing to be swallowed
by the bitterness of what you feel
is what keeps this story
moving in a series of episodes
held together by souls that watch
in interest
husbands that awake next to you
despite the harshness of the rain-storm the night before
and mothers that will forgive
no matter how many tears were extracted
from words never truly meant in its vulgarness
as he kicks
thump thump thump
as he reminds you of life
carried inside you
37 weeks from a pea
to 4 pounds and 3 ounces
you smile
dropping the words that refuse embrace
you hold on
tiny hands in place
abandoning letters in uncertainty
you take in
life
you remember
how the cycle of your vulnerabilities
have come back to you
to hold
to lift
not realizing that that which you hold within your arms now
are your very own
and how will we step forward
climb up to our four-walls of comfort
finding space on that train to lean back our heads
after a long days rush
to plan ahead in life-days
that quickly scribble away
details of yes and no’s
of rights and wrongs
how will we know
thump thump thump
he kicks
thump thump thump
awakening this instinct to the sounds
of street kids
that play in the witness
that yes
life goes on
it just happens
we just have to let it be
and we
we
just have to let it be …