Tapia

dusty air creates swirly patterns
with each step, the weary beast splashes majestic dust
heavy and overwhelmed, it shifts with rhythm and as it rests –
its eyes remain open through the night

its treasure is exceedingly great
its ears can hear the voices of the angels, and the voice of the child
each sound reminds it to continue the journey, which has been a hard delight

its limited mind can’t comprehend hospitality matters among the brethren
it is the peaceful assurance that comes from its master –
a trajectory that started with confidence and heavenly advice

as it finally lays down, the most beautiful cry elaborates its mind –
lifting its soul to a profound and godly encounter

for unto us a child is born, the blessed child that brings salvation to this dry land – perfection in the purest form

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!

Little hasn’t met you yet but her inexperience tunnels the incoming winds

there they come again, in time for the butcher to make ready a hot soup

she is not fully aware of table manners nor is she willing to risk understanding distinctions

the ladder only leads to one place, and  that’s where she wants to be, ‘to discover life I have to climb it’

The mystery of the unseen becomes so desiring that she purposes in her heart to conquer vision

but first she must run by the beast, ‘I can’t fight it but I can be strategic’

time is running out, the house is filled with heat

and there as robust as one can be, the beast is in the courts of my presence but it does not move

Little did not fight this battle, empty at last there is dirt and walls and in the far corner the ladder

it is now or never, she begins to climb the ladder and starts to see the horizon

life! how, when did this happened? An entire population awaits, a camp of soldiers, whose loyalty remains at home

and as little walks through the burned civilization, she realizes that she shared the same home

Tears water the ashes, she is too young to understand the future, too young to understand the heart, too young to forget, but young enough to love them, young enough to miss their presence

it is yes, a fulfilling illusion developing her brave heart

Vanity of vanities – said the author
When a man focuses on these
he gives up on who he is to be what others want him to be
the privilege to be secretly recognized becomes a public trade
He looses his soul to labels and shadows come into his life
and like a slave his feet and hands are no longer under his control
He does what he is told to do, no longer choosing freely
Pity, for such man’s masculinity is lost
and it is only up to him to recover it

So he pleads: Psalm 61

Light filters through the rocks
and she examinines her next step
bounce head, little step, hide
where did the grass go?
under the shadows her brilliant circle brown eyes
conquers a flood
did we meet somewhere?
once perhaps, a meet cute
vividly can we remember
zero effort of resistance
the morning dove was vulnerable and broken

Her eyes screamed mercy
and were so full of trust, so full of life
would you like to spend the night?
A candlelight night
oh did we not pray for a bonfire shed?
she ate and got well, and we said farewell

Today, I saw her again
majestic and confident of her step
it flew back like an old friend
am not sure which of the two was the hardest
to see her depart or to clean her basket

Such obscure joy to see her fly

moment by moment,
one step lighter then the previous but quicker
racing away from conscious dreams
it feels like we have come far
and we try not to look back…
but our footprints have walked on wet concrete
it’s exclusive – the past leaving scars –
scars that can’t be erased
and yet it brings out our solo strength
we never walked alone.

When did we become so headstrong
were we not zealous to remain from fables
and as our experiences go, we continue fighting to forget
is it our choice? YES! Not by inspiration – we hope
who chooses what to dream when we sleep?
we wish the concrete was ocean sand
and as the waves come, may they take our footprints
but rather, they splash cold water and we wake up

We may have chosen to decide that we were too tired to fight
Force was never made to accommodate love
but as no other best friend He sits and waits,
His hands scarred, and His knuckles with calluses
are never too tired to knock

He never left Home

applause flies through the crowds
one by one the individuals march, ready for combat
the first flash, teary-eyed, forgetful vitriol of mind
the autodidact father runs to the front
with a great smile, sorridi!

Her beauty found favor in the king’s eyes
Her character won the king’s heart
But her plead could end her life

Frightened, she had no way out
Still victory was on her mind
“my life is threatened, she cried”

By order, the swords came down
Her life had been granted
And through her a nation was spared

Terror vanished on that auspicious day
And freedom spread through the sky