i
Pains perch on parallel buds around us,
intersecting like painting gone wrong;
but they will flee, they will flee.
They may as well continue to nibble at us,
they will be doing so only to mock themselves;
for dawn will always come,
stretching from the opaque into the transparent,
mending the fences of reality.
ii
For Se:
The dark days never got through your doorsteps,
for your words wear a silk gown of bravery,
sweeping your floor clean,
as all sides of near-death receded
far and far away from your glow.
Silk and floor and life,
all sparkle;
breathing in whole-life,
deep and long,
in the sparkle.
iii
For Ingrid:
Those days of pain drowned
in the ocean of your love for nature.
Those images of the seas and the skies and the landscape,
they amplify the light your being feeds from.
Your external eyes are pretty, they already defeated the set back;
your inner eyes are bright, full of light,
full of life
iv
For Caitlin:
Your inner strength is a moving mountain.
Light waves of agony do not prevail against mountains of life.
We will mock those pains and all its associated distractions.
Light waves of agony do not prevail against the laughters
that feed from your strength.
v
For Anjana:
That quarantine scare was a mere hoot
in the broken trunk of the scary trumpet.
The glow of your home is strong against the ills
of uncertainties flying like kites above us.
It is pretty clear we are not at its end.
It is pretty unclear we are in its middle.
Yet we live strong, ahead of the evening victories.
And your shout of relief sent a healing balm
across the conferences.
vi
For Mildred:
The chaos grew, swollen like the discarded dead.
Howl for the chaos;
I know, I know.
Howl…
If you are hanging in there, you are hanging well;
for dawn will always come.
vii
For Tanya:
How can pain not be scared
of the one who overcame it
over and over again?
You know your story, your story knows you.
Victory found you, got stuck with you.
Hold that grip, all the aces embrace you.
Victory will always find you,
even as gratitude dances for your living.
viii
For Jacob:
Great seeds sprout in silence.
They tower up high once above the surface.
With many fruits to spread around the globe,
yours is the manifestation of great harvests.
Many yet to come;
we will mock those pains, they cannot prevail.
ix:
For Tobe:
In a time of revisiting sorrows,
you savour the refreshing flow of the Vermont wind,
basking in the renewing words of converging poetry.
with chocolates drumming the echoes of time,
healing memories down the lane;
healing us all.
x
For Richard:
Seventieth is an upper landmark of life,
and there will be more decades of the line drawn with cheer.
In these conferences of poetry,
poems write us, you say.
As your words jet its healing all around us,
we await your twelve new surprises,
like a dozen denizens of poetic paradise.
xi
For us all:
Your voices are embraced with warmth when you speak.
Your silences are heard from across the horizons when you are mute.
All of us, as we chase essences in shapes and sizes,
we unite in these conferences, flowing into a confluence,
as we swim in the vast waters of unending renewal.
xii:
I sip from this cup of overflowing muses,
in these conferences,
converging into a confluence of communions.
All of the pains can nibble again.
They will be doing so only to mock themselves,
for dawn will always come.
Dawn will always come,
stretching from the opaque into the transparent,
mending the fences of reality.
Written from Hour 1 text prompt.