poetry by
Shoma Berkemeyer


Saving the blessedness

This precinct core, holy sacredness
Blessedness on run
Come near, no more
Heart drums in this precinct core.
You don't hurt; you don't pain;
Just that
Disappointment makes greater home.
Hold sacredness, purity save.
Ideals and expectations fall.

The Phoenix rises

The Phoenix rises
After its sleep of a hundred centuries
The myrrh that breathed its smell so sweet
A Judas in a kiss and tell story.
The flaming fire in which it burned
Pageant plumage unfurled
A mockery royal
A laugh at self
The muted many that stood.
Witness to the burning pyre.

The agony of ignominy
A defeated history for an introduction.
Lying on the ground
And honor shorn.
The jolts the heart suffered. The blows that fate dealt
Grovelling in dust, and a dusty fortune ahead.

But arose, earth and fire, water and the winds!
All the elements of the universe.
Proclaiming their holy chant
As the Phoenix rose
The temples shook
The very who doubted, found no words.
Speechless standing, in reverence bowing.
A miracle or reality happening?
In glory splendored
In crimson, colored robes
The Phoenix bled to rise.

What a spectacle to be watched!
What a thronging to be heard!

Multitude surprising.
History defying.
What Hercules didn't
And what Achilles fell short
But for an ankle wrought
That Icarus fell
That brave Ulysses chapter closed.
And for its thousand falls
Mark the call
The Phoenix always rises!

This tightness in feelings

This killing pain
This lack of breath
Mucous blocked nose
Flooded eyes
I'm missing you.
And it is no different.
From a thousand others
Just oceans away
They'd too cry the tears
And wipe them dry.
Crusted cheeks normal.
And not
'Cause I die
At all thoughts
Of your embrace
A caress from past
Which I dare now
To be real...
There -
Killing pain
Kill me. Kill me.
These living cells
Need die
Awakening emotions
Livid 'n' living
Reconcile can't I.


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