The Meaning Holders

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You keep telling me

Look around and look inside!

Untangle your mental ropes,

tie them up to the objects around you!

A nightingale, a pair of slippers, a coffee mug

Hold on to them!

Symbolise them!

Internalise them!

Tighten your grip until your knuckles turn white

Breadcrumbs marking your life’s path.

Ancient paintings on your cave walls telling a story.

Defining the boundary lines of your existence.

A meaningful cage full of resonant memories.

Suffocating… Let me out!

Grant me the freedom of reinvention and let me start afresh!

In awe of my sofa

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You are standing there, uncelebrated, humble, taken for granted.

Wrinkled and creased,

Bumpy and stained,

Like a motherly hug or

a traveler’s bench in a far way forest.

A mental vessel to the past.

A silent witness of

hugs and kisses,

smiles and tears,

affections and quarrels.

Often, I have this dream of throwing you out,

making room for a younger version of you,

ironed and fluffy and perfect.

But then I remember that summer night when…

and the hot as hell noon that…

and that chilly morning when…

and that godforsaken moment that…

and I pause…in acceptance and compassion

for your wooden bones that show through the cushions

and in awe of the human acts which were enacted right there in front of you

and I let you be…

Deja Vu

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Θα επιστρέψουν

θαρρείς παντοδύναμοι,

στις λεωφόρους.

 

Με μνήμη μύγας,

και βήμα ελέφαντα,

θα συνεχίσουν.

 

φωτ.: Byron Anway