Panacea

A wanderer, under the eternal sun
Young eyes searching what ancient heart has found
Slipping sands of time between his fingers
In an unforgiving desert of reminisce-
Waiting forever and a day

An alchemist of fortune, he was
Fate was written in his palm, but pity-
For he frees, foolishly, from his withered grasp
An allegory for his pining spirit
A passion unfinished
& a story that remains untold
He lets intuition linger

For what could have been, never did
& what is to come, is willed
That this sorcerer of gold becomes callous
Of the worth of earth before him.

Imaginary fences

Monday afternoon, I stared out the backyard of my new home. It was anything but my old yard. It lacked colour. Used to be that I'd stare for hours at the bright green maple tree with my textbook opened while my tea would cool. And mama's lavender would blossom, by the raspberry bushes beside the grapevines.

Our new backyard was blah. Barren. With little stubs for trees, and an open scope of nothingness. A pile of junk for a landfill intimidated the corner of my eye. But I was amused. A boy and a girl sat in the dirt, about three feet away from the boundary of where fences will soon be raised. The boy was digging away with his blue plastic shovel, and the little girl was yelling out instructions. They were cute, I thought. And how wonderful to be playing in dirt, rather than playing with video games....or staring at a laptop for that matter.

Soon after, I saw two other boys from around the neighborhood had joined them. They were careful to not step on my yard, and took the longest way around possible. Cautious, as if it could trigger a landmine if they went over the line. I started giggling, because I knew they saw me watching them from the kitchen. One of the boys had a soccer ball, and when he kicked it, accidentally landing on the grass into my yard. He stopped and stared at it, not knowing what to do. Eventually, I just waved at him. He picked up his soccer ball, and took the longer way around back to behind the boundary, as if apologetic that he stepped beyond the line on the grass.

Territories and boundaries of property. And understanding it at such a young age. There were no fences built yet, only imaginary ones. And this, already instilled into their innocent minds.... 

Barb Wires

Cement walls and barb wires. The watchmen stood unwavering on top of the watch towers. Upon arrival, I felt thrilled. It was an experience drawn from movies, and I, for some incomprehensible reason, let my imagination wandered away to the image of Wentworth Miller from Prisonbreak. Grounded back to reality, I sobered at the thought of a real prison breaking which sent shivers to my spine.Then my unpredictable cognitive mind suddenly triggered a notion of an apartheid when I stared at the cement walls and barb wires at the third glance. It was surreal to wrap my head around the facts. The stuff we observe in Hollywood are real. There is nothing fictitious about the existence of crimes and prisoners. More than anything, I reaffirmed my belief in the fact, that there is nothing fictitious about the concept of justice.

I hesitate to reveal the details for my experience witnessing hearings at the penitentiary for confidentiality reasons. Offenders are humans. Relative to context, I sympathized them and become frustrated by the system. Or I'd become frustrated by the insensitivity of their actions, and would support the sanctions for punitive measures. I encountered real offenders who shared their accounts of prison experiences and their personal reflections of the committed crimes. Personally for me, I sought deeply for answers to the intrinsic assessment of 'what is REALLY genuine and truthful?'

And for the first time in my life, I was in an environment where the burden of justice weighted heavily upon my shoulders. The structure of the institution was a physical representation of the critical conflict between the universal laws of morality and the fallibility of human condition in interpretation. And to think religiously what judgement would be like in the hereafter, is beyond my capacity....and more incomprehensible than this.

Maple

Crystallize the maple leaf
Under a sheaf of ice.
Quick-
But orange they turn,
All wrinkle, crisp and dry.

Dust have turn dusk
To shorten days,
& winds have shifted
They kiss and chill
My pity cheek goodbye

Forced Peace

In a reading for Law and Regulations, Charles Tilly affirms that capital creates cities, while coercion creates states. The emergence of a state or a city is said to be inevitable. Because humanity by nature is skeptical of trusting. Family, allies for generations expand territorial boundaries thus creating a city or a state, for the sole purpose of protection. Protecting the capital, the individual.

Stumbling on Lester B. Pearson's quote carved on the United Nations Peacekeeping Monument yesterday was by coincidence. It is no surprise, that Pearson's use of the word 'force' twice in the same statement conjured the notion of coercion subconsciously in the back of my head. Peace acquired through a legitimate force seems contradictory to me. What does 'legitimate force' even mean? Who pronounces its legitimacy? Yet it echoes Tilly's premise for a state and city, centering the notion of protection.

Somehow, the notion of peace weighted in as justification for force left a bitter after taste on my tongue....ironic, to say, this is my skepticism speaking.

Think Afghanistan.
Or what could have happened if the Suez Crisis went the other way.

Cement

Wake, in a dream of twenty yellow seams,
Breathe, I can't sleep suffocating thoughts won't seem to leave
Hide underneath, my mind wanders between these sheets
But I decided to let things be,
Let the ghosts continue to haunt me.

Sun seeping in, slide through sides of my window pane
Sits on my desks, a hundred reasons why I'm to blame,
Hang in my closet, borrowed excuses all too lame
& I never thought we'd be here
Deceived to believe in an illusion so clear

Cold cement floor, touched the bottom of my feet
Arms to my sides, embracing scars left in too deep
Stale coffee in a cup, I swallowed every drop with all my pride
Bitter left the taste in my tongue
Better days choked in my throat,
From words spit I'd let stung.

We've burnt every bridges in front of us,
The only way to move ahead is to build new ones. =]

Grass and Tree

I want to run bare feet on the grass,
You can chase me around that tree-
The African Baobab, with a swing of rope and wooden plank
Hanging on a branch,
I'll watch you soar, smile, and feel free

Climb the trunk and hide with me,

Tell me stories, giggle about silly things
Away from everything, just the two of us-
What adventure we'd imagine our lives to be

The boundless lines, of kings and queens
You, with your magic hat and I with my sword,
Nothing to scare, nothing to steal,
Only places to see and somebody to be

And when the night comes, the moon rises to sleep,
We'd lie and watch the star underneath the leaves
You'd teach me constellations and sing to me

Someday, you whispered,
Life and love are pickle things,
Some things are less simple than they really seem.
That be the day, you decided to leave

With a kiss on my forehead,
You looked into my eyes and grinned
You freed my wrist
& you became to me, my imaginary

·         “The soap opera stuff comes from court materials” –Prof B

Pretty much reaffirms why I am enjoying what I study. Plus, I was a drama student back in high school. If you can't handle the double dosage of drama, I suggest you keep away from this queen.

Signed,
-Her Royal Highness

The most important things are the hardest to say.

Harmony

At Harmony Square, beside the water fountain.
While Bob Marley sang, and summer night was in full blossom.

The cross between contemporary and antiquated
Of downtown Brantford reminded me of Streetsville.
& while green hydrangeas sent us both into a giggling fit,
I realized that I can make 'home' be anywhere I want it to be.

:) This town, and your company makes me feel classy, and a little less dorky today.
.