October 2, 2015

Notes on Movements through Verses

We want change. We want it so much that we are willing to run all the way to the past, but once there, we rarely see the need to return to the present. It is easier to face the past than to face its consequences. We drown in the past because we usually dive rather than dip our feet into the murky waters of humankind’s bleak history. It is necessary to open our minds to more than one element of time, at the same time. The water. The shore. The sky. We all know which is which. Our times call for serious decisions. We must face what we need to face. If we want change, there is no other option. But no matter how challenging things may become, never forget to inhale the air around us. More important, do not forget to bend down and smell the flowers. Do not forget to pick the ones we would like to see in the hands of our loved ones. No flower is more beautiful than the one that we give to those we deeply care about, even if we have not met them yet. Even if we know we never will.
                                                           
The Movement of Flowers

            Minds moved by
            ideas of movements,   
            yet paralyzed by inaction.
            Intention alone does not
            set things in motion.
The romantics whose heads are stuck
in a rose bush do not feel the pain of
having their skin pricked by thorns.
They scream.
                        “Revolution!”
Oh, revolution.
Sweet, sweet, revolution.
                        Let them scream their
                        love for you, let them caress
                        your rough surface—
All the while, time mourns for
the wilted cause—all dried up and ignored,
having received no water, no light, no
understanding.
            Dead. Left to die. Killed.
Because thoughts are not enough. Words are not enough.
Though wouldn’t it be nice if they were,
indeed, enough?
But even so
they scream and scream. The passion in the poetry
of their theory
            still burns for the beautiful,
            red roses that once made the world
            more fragrant for those who had inhaled
            the stench of injustice for too long.
            The roses were all they had back then.
            They knew it was important
            to fight for a future that does not reek of
            needless suffering.
                        The roses were more than decoration,
                        more than air fresheners,
                        so much more than a romantic gesture.
            The roses were even more than roses.
           
They were a beginning.

                        Minds moved by
                        ideas of movements,
                        yet paralyzed by inaction.
                        Nostalgia cannot set things
                        in motion.
Oh, romantics, get your heads out
of the bush and plant your
own flowers. Learn how to smell the
air of your time &       
                        continue to fight
from a new beginning. 

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