Jitter #32

My beautiful husband wrote these outstanding words.

bejitters

Who I Am

I am white,
black, brown,
yellow, red…

But that’s not who I am.

I am male,
female, man,
woman,
yin, yang…

But that’s not who I am.

I am Christian,
Muslim, Jewish,
Buddhist, Taoist,
Hindu, Wiccan,
atheist, agnostic…

But that’s not who I am.

I am straight, gay,
lesbian, somewhere
along the
continuum…

But that’s not who I am.

I am American,
European, Indian,
Asian, Middle Eastern,
a child of the world…

But that’s not who I am.

I’m a lefty, a righty,
a leftist, a rightist,
liberal, conservative,
centrist,
ambidextrous,
bisexual,
queer…

But that’s not who I am.

When you label me,
you marginalize me.

When you see me only
as part of a group,
you diminish me.

When you assume
I act and think and feel
as others like me,
you delude yourself,
because there are no others
like me.

I am unique,
not a…

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Light and Death

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Death’s cloak of souls
waft in soft candlelight’s
smoky illusion.
A mere flicker from orange mouths
is acquiescence
gleaned from smouldering smiles
tilted skyward,
looking inward
for those elusive answers
before their time melts
and soft wax woefully transcends
this columnar life –
all but spent.
Candles snap and flicker
at dusk
lest death should befall us
before twilight’s shoulder
thrusts to assist the burial
of our burdens,
and because we have questions
to ask:
who will light the way now
and lift the veil of sunrise
while the air is thick and suffused
with sour grief?
Why are those precarious guardians
like paper dolls
dancing on our dying embers’
flameless combustion?
And who is it that beckons to us
through candlelight smoke?
Who?

Live Life Like You Mean It…or

This is from my days alone here – relatively.

As it Comes

whaleMove it

Walk tall as if your head
is in the clouds, and damn
the fools who frown
on daydreams.
Dreams are the titans
of our darkness –
floating, colourful and intangible –
air castles inside our
own fantasia,
running amok among the cotton
fields up there around our ears –
ear muffs that might help defend
us against the brutality
of this world.
Visualise your goals, and set
the titans free in a race of all time.

Play it

Life bursts its door wide open
and our curiosity should be piqued.
My brows are creased –
my curiosity is furiously
furrowed as I become enthralled,
entranced
and grasping – always grasping –
but, I don’t feel
any connection.
Instead I am cast adrift
on the waves of the music seeping
through the cracks left to me
once I’d slammed the door shut –
its fluid curves, clarify
and crystallises…

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Greetings from the Clouds

One of my favourite writers.

Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

My face is unusual It is lit, soft undertones, white powder brush ( swathed and layered, feathers and wavering ships ) The winter winds draw water crockery and wispy treasures on this skeletal white plane, vertical and standing Winter winds depart from my tongue and infuse the length of glass with currents from my past A rendering of blue on a white milk dream My eyes pop, irises stroked with spindles of green grass The clouds stand rebellious and loud They stand in my backyard today; jumping and hopping, wearing their restless rhythms like proud petal hats A cacophony breaks under a sweltering hum ( underground sounds ) There are ripples all over my balloon skin Ripples of sewn thunder and relentless adventures My cheeks, paper drawings, a stampede of concentric circles I am unusual, today The clouds have gathered in my backyard And I am all tiny again I…

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