Triptych (plus One)

Small Hands

Small hands reach out into the void;

For your soul, please have a care…

Lest identity spent, sees your soul’s lament

At small hands grasping nothing but air.

Pictures

The connection is cold and immovable;

like their pictures on the wall.

Blank stares in two dimension

Deepen disconnection with them all.

These moments are rendered timeless,

So I'm amazed how it can be, they mark

(and mock) its silent passing

In this solitude with me.

Piracy

Bright eyes, above sweet laughter…

These were treasures stolen from me.

Too late, perhaps, to save my soul;

Yet I hope to set it free.

Crashing

All at once, the crashing comes,

Expected yet ignored.

When Blood-red swords are thrashing,

then my dignity I'll restore.

With nothing left, I'm free to move,

a spark to light the fuse….

Stripped of all, now standing tall,

with no fear, cause there’s nothing to lose.