Two poems


look through it, deep
not hair, face or complexion
but inner wounds and scars
do we differ in reflection?

I see two persons, dichotomy
two different beings, yet similar
one young, immature
one older, learning
one beautiful, full in spirit
one or self-reproach
one strong, one wise
one of uncertainties
one confident, one brave
one with hesitations

as both share one reflection
they stare at one another
looking deeply through each other’s eyes
the held hands, joined
became one, spirit and soul
one encouraging, the other supporting
one talking, one listening
one nurturing, one enriching
maintaining balance
in a shell where both exist
together as one, whole, existing
they become me… complete



a thousand sighs
birth of empty reveries
of blood and veins
no ounce of current flowing

in one frail attempt
scatter light to the vacant
gloom does dwell
demean every vision


unscathed creature
screams of your body hair
motionless even for air

Move! Move! Move!

try.. sigh..