For My Self

Reluctant was I to stand ground,
My own self in total disregard,
I may lift weights overhead,
Yet, mine holding me down,
And I may talk to others nonstop,
But will the ‘silence talk’ ever start?
And I may read others’ faces,
Whilst mine buried underground.

So here is to the era of recovery,
To the morning light of my moon,
To the midnight rise of my sun:
An early bird – for a lasting lullaby,
An invention – for an open mic,
A dew – for a refreshing smile,
A postcard – for a self-reflection,
So here is to how I stood my ground.

The Ideal Stamp

Inscribe on it the tears of society,
To be sent on the edges of universe,
Let this stamp be on postcards,
Let it be on asylum seekers,
Put on it few symbols of life,
Water, trees, sun, or even birds,
And as for the choice of colour,
Let it shine the shades of humanity,
And remove all those numbers and currencies,
And leave but one word,
In hope that every soul whispers it,
As they stick this stamp on an envelope,