Tag: poem

Things We Carry

People carry so much.

Our whole life, we carry something. And the older we get, the more our spines bend under the weight.

We carry bags full of shopping. School backpacks. Purses. Piles of textbooks. Suitcases. Boxes with our belongings as we move to a new place.

We carry our kids when they’re tired. We carry their backpacks, their toys, their scooters and skateboards.

We carry our pets to the vet clinic.

We carry guilt. Regrets. Nostalgic memories.

We carry self doubt. Grief. Fear. Anxiety.

We do carry our dreams too, but they are the lightest. They don’t weigh that much—so oftentimes they escape and disappear high in the sky like a balloon.

Our hands are rarely free of weight. Neither are our hearts and minds.

So sometimes we catch ourselves looking up at the birds roaming in the sky and a faint whisper of envy touches our souls. What would it be like, we wonder, to be so light and free? What would it feel like to soar among the clouds with no added weight?

And someday, we’ll find out.

Childhood fears

When I was little, 

there were two things 

that would keep me up at night

and have me in tears.

First was the infiniteness of space, 

and the other was the inevitability of death.

I live in a city, I thought. 

The city is within a country.

The country is within a continent,

The continent within a planet.

The planet is in space.

Now, what is space within?

Where does it end? 

And what’s beyond the border?

Enough to drive a five-year-old crazy.

I’m forty-five and I still don’t understand.

Death terrified me. Not the process,

not even the fact itself. 

Rather, what happens after.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Here I am, I thought, 

Lying here and thinking these thoughts 

and feeling these feelings. 

But when I die, what happens then?

Who’s going to think and feel these things? 

Where will I go? 

I can’t just disappear now, can I?

I can’t just stop being. 

That would be wrong. Too cruel. 

Impossible and illogical 

Just like the infinite space.

Forty years later, 

I’m not afraid of death as such.

I definitely don’t look forward to it. 

I hope I have plenty of time to enjoy this crazy life.

But when the day comes,

I know I won’t just disappear.

Space still baffles me.

Reflection

Hello, nice to meet you.

Better late than never.

I didn’t really get to know you

In four decades together.

Sorry I abandoned you,

Never put you first.

Always someone more important,

Something more pressing…

Stairs to climb.

Doors to knock.

Worlds to save.

Bridges to burn.

From thriving

To surviving.

From living

To existing.

Making choices.

Playing catch-up.

Building friendships and homes.

Losing people and trust.

All these years

You must’ve been so lonely.

Waiting to be noticed.

Begging for attention.

Let’s fix this.

You know, I was told

That it’s never too late.

So let’s start from scratch.

How are you?

Who are you?

What is it that you

Truly desire?

What makes your heart sing?

What is your highest high?

What is your lowest low?

Do you feel better after crying?

Or has it lost its power?

Do you still believe in miracles?

Or has reality won the battle?

Last but not least, I’ll ask you,

Can I please be your best friend?

I won’t let you down, I promise

I’ll right my wrongs.

This time I’ll really listen.

I’ll be there for you.

As I wait for the response,

My reflection smiles at me

From the other side of the mirror.

I’ll interpret this smile as a “Yes.

It’s about time.

Better late than never.”