I’m trying to come up with something today,
Pushing hard like hallucinogen thrashing my brain,
Losing to trance, Dash Berlin;
Afloat on a lake of words facing grave infinity.
It’s a day that runs forward and backward on end
As constant wars everywhere
Send humanity escaping across the desert,
To boundaries of nations and doors of mercy.
There is no end. Suffering is a humdrum affair.
Hatred and prejudice the horned avatars of ruin.
The world just ripples through book pages,
Leaves glinting at the sun, murmurs of the hearts.
Yet, the hours will remain incandescent, blistering
To the hilt. If everything else goes, why, memories persist;
They live within the tiniest grit of stone and complexities
Of stars. Like I will not be carrying forever
In my mind the passage of a storm against the glass window
Of a hospital room, how the gust of wind bends
The trees almost to the ground on a dark cold morning,
My father wracked with pain and fading away in his bed.
My gut tells me I will recover this moment somewhere,
My deep-rooted dreams of finding home,
And maybe, a prayed-for-maybe, that I’ll run
Into my father in a mirage, our smiles and longing
Melting as we hug each other upon instant recognition.
15-16 October 2014
Phnom Penh, Cambodia