Dusk
Till
Dawn
A collection of poems that express explicit and implicit emotions and feelings learnt throughout periods of recovery and self-discovery. They are beacons of hope and knowledge about one's mental state and how people in your life can spur you into healing, as well as the growth you find within yourself.
Just as a phoenix is reborn and a dragon learns to breathe fire, we too can learn to rehabilitate again.
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Borderline, (2020)
A sole dancer pirouettes
Against that grainy, lifeless soil.
A Hundred glimpses of shadowy faces
Veering through that mucky cloud
With different sneers and smiles
Cast in the iron of their mouths
Are dancing right beside her.
One by one, they take a turn
grabbing the dancer by her patchwork wrists.
Spin her into their submission
taking the stage as one.
Too tight!
Too strong!
Too much!
Locked in arms that will never hold her
But still provide some comfort.
Perhaps familiarity.
Their fingernails and thumbs dig into her arms.
Make her bleed again.
Drinking up that river vibrancy
To live, to live, to live!
In waltzes and twirls she is carried
In and out of that moonlit gaze.
A dancer with a smile so tight;
So wide;
So maniacal,
Laughing, laughing, laughing!
A grin so menacing
and full of ecstasy!
Laughing, laughing, laughing!
Dancing!
In a salsa!
Foxtrot!
Tango!
Laughing and dancing!
Dancing and laughing!
Cackling like hens!
Howling like owls!
Convulsing!
She begs to stop:
“I’m tired”,
through giggles.
The shadow’s smirk
Does not crack.
Instead grows
With delirious merit.
“Dance! Dance! Dance!”
They chime.
and she dances.
Thrown to the next,
snares her in her grasp.
In clasped, clawed fingers
they begin to dance.
But
This
One
Does not smile
It rages and shouts and screams
Blood-scratched irises.
Blood in their fists
From holding on too tight.
It rages on and on
The dancer rages too.
Fury in the scrunches
Of her face.
But she does not know why
She furies.
Starts to scream
(Jaw still stiff,
locked from rage)
“I’m tired!”
Does not smile.
Instead slaps her
With furious merit.
“Dance! Dance! Dance!”
They chime.
and she dances.
Pushed to the next
Shadowy figure.
This one is drowning
In melancholy.
Tears tainting
That face
In streams.
Limbs barely moving;
Weighted, heavy, thick.
Slow dancing like sleepwalking.
Both dancers lay tired
On the others chest.
Eyes puffy and drowned
With that bitterness;
Lemon-soured hopelessness.
“I’m tired” she sobs,
Muffled into the wet T-shirt.
The other dancer pulls back:
They stare into each other,
Souls bare and faint.
“I know” she replies.
Dusk Till Dawn, 2020
As so much lies beneath that sun
To starlight, dusk, dawn and night
Embedded in the capsules of my beady eyes
Sets stars and moon and crystal sparks.
So heavy shall I lay my heart at night
And calmly whisper in my sweet breath
That I embrace the arms of death.
Kiss my forehead and let me rest.
Kiss my forehead and give me rest.
For I shall know in this world
That I have acted my part.
And to life I shall say.
With grateful farewell
And fortuitus delight,
With all that sunlight
And that white-lit moon
I beg to differ:
“It is not too soon”.
So, give me that kiss,
That sweet kiss of death
To which I am not immune.
Embrace me stars
Give me rest;
Sunrise to Sunset
Dawn to Dusk.
Dusk till dawn.