Day 81: Being Yourself

A friend of mine wrote to me yesterday about the passing of a hard time, about wanting to be able to put a brave and strong face when facing adversity in personal life, and how the things we choose to not matter, affect us a lot. And though she was able to move on from her condition in sorts , her fear of feeling the same way remained with her.
                              I think we all feel the same way from time to time, when we are stuck between taking a step forward hoping we will make the same mistakes we did earlier. We are tired of being in the same place but familiar things comforts us. I am sure she will make it as do many of us, but we have to often remind ourselves that we are not done trying yet. Here's to such situations and here's to being brave my friend, being yourself .

Being Yourself
Be strong be brave my friend,

Only the feeble ones have been forgotten in time,

Be the rhythm on the note that you play, be the music you compose,

Be noticed, be proud, be yourself as you chose

Be the bend in the river that forces the hand,

Be tall and yet humble, take flight not knowing or caring how to land.

Be restless like the bird , and be free like the wind,

Disappear when the world looks for you, you are too special to be seen.

Be mellow, be sad, but not for a long time,

Because we make stories out of thin air, make fiction that breathes in your mind,

Be the best of you and worst of you, be discovered in many ways,

You have never given up, you are not lost you are simply making up your mind 

Be heartbroken and yet not the broken hearted one, fear not of putting back pieces again,
We have gone on like the wind that fills the room, the words that fill my pen with no remorse no pain

Be strong and be brave my friend, someday you will talk of tall tales,

You are distinct in every way, together we will not fall, we will not fail

Day 80: An Angry World

I have always felt it is difficult for me to get angry, so much so that I often feel physically overwhelmed in the presence of confrontation. And some may find it amusing that they have seen that part of me which is cynical and unhappy about how unfair and unjust the world treats each other. I had such conversations at times with friends , and today when I had another I felt it would rather be unfair if I specifically chose this; to be a topic I refused to write about. Though I fear I tend to apologize too quickly, though I fear my innate need for what I call being nice may be rooted into a grander acceptance of the world I live in, it is far from being right. I guess for now it is the only version I know about, and though I make no promises to the world or to you my friend(s) , I can only write to this mad and angry world we each try to make sense of every single day. I don't know what I achieve in writing this piece, but it is nevertheless the idea that we can be fair, and honest to ourselves.

An Angry World
And yes the world was angry, heated up, rattled like a room with no escape,
A windows that lead you to believe what was real, with bars inside and out it was built like a cage
Angry upon the minutes of the day that means so little to few and so much to you,
Angry with favors that are called upon and about returns which come so very few

An angry world often sits and plans, it does nothing much but keeps memories of the past,
It reminds itself, it hurts itself and often tells itself of the stories that for no reason last
Angry upon the complains we never made, the things we didn't get to say as arguments end,
And the incomplete phone calls with conversations still, and the letters we write; but never send.

I feel anger mixed with passion at times, about situations that I wish I could change at will,
Which were carried on from time to time, and yet would listen to no one and would not yield
Are you angry with me, the world or is the wait too long?
I have reasons, as do you, and for now the world is mad trying to get along

And in the end when all is calm for a while, when the tea cups and coffee cups are stowed away,
You will remember both the angry times, and maybe the times you could smile the ones you share
Yes I might be angry with the world, or simply gloomy, upset or too tired to complain,
But it is what is left of utter disbelief, waiting for things to be equal is it all in vain?

Go angry when you can into this world, the little kid is beaten down too often at times,
And even the maddening crowd, the cynics and the hopeful ones refuse to stir any part of mine

Day 79: Winter Sleep

Two days ago, I followed my friends for a movie called "Winter Sleep". It was a foreign film centering around characters who would talk about normality and argue incessantly over what would seem mundane at times. The focus of the story was thereby not so much on the surroundings, rather the conversations that felt so human from time to time, and the symbolism that effects the tone of the movie. There were moments in the movie where you felt for both the central characters, the relationship between a man and his wife and as they struggle to find their own role. Their arguments seemed real enough to move you into taking sides while the topic of the argument seemed irrelevant. And somewhere in between those moments , there was a restlessness and helplessness that could not be replaced by any thought or words.

Winter Sleep
I sometimes wish for the bitter things, the arguments that ring in my head,
That doesn't let you be yourself and neither me , become myself instead
I sometimes bother myself with setting you free, somewhere in my mind,
Because you have long gone away from me, it is only your memory that you left behind

The tired man, the withered man, the proud man in silent retreats,
Becomes the best of himself, and yet is temporary and for no one to keep
I write cooped up in my warm study, the couch behind; is where we fight,
We have talked on and on , and refused to win as the morning creeps, we have only lost sight

The winter sleep and the winter as it sleeps both tired as it comes home,
It goes round and round in the white snow outside, it has no place to go alone.
Do you sit outside endlessly, in between laughter you dare not set free,
You have changed yourself, you have found cold inside and out as much as can be

I will never know why we don't find love when we need,
Why we couldn't stand to be what we are, the best of us when we heed
I will only know of heartbreaks and memories of the past,
And I will only dream to be a better man, when no one cares to ask

Though I would hate to argue for any one character, I would be remiss if I say that I could not feel the warmth of the tea that was poured in the glasses, the tea turned cold and yet it is the only escape I see that shared the warmth equally.