Disinfected People

Wrote this a while ago in a more contemplative phase of my life. Thought I would share it with you today:


Being is old
And we’re here for the new.
Putting up fences,
Keeping eyes away
From our grace

Hidden in Papers,
Food, and Electric buzzes;
The two of us, walled into
Private loneliness.

So many hearts
Hidden in warm cages,
Limp bodies
In chairs,
Nerves moving toward the edge,
But never quite falling

Concrete, Mud
Buildings, Trees
Shoes on soft grass,
I can only hear the difference.

We’re the disinfected people
Out of ease
In our ease,

Sometimes the sun shines,
The warmth grows inwards
Until we can hear the birds singing
Inside us

‘Till the flittering screens come,
And we think
Those thoughts so many times repeated,
Unaware of our death
Like ghosts
Of past and future
With the fear of never having lived

The one who walks slowly by the wayside
Found salvation in touch of the bark,
The sight of the colours became beautiful,
Time was fluid and vivid.
Slowly he watched,
It looked like water.

 

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