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The Web Poetry Corner



Chennai, TN, India

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Sea breeze and trance



Sometimes Iím holding everyoneís hand through their struggles,
Sometimes Iím carrying their burdens with them...
Sometimes Iím practical and reaching out, asking advice, all intellect, no emotion.
Sometimes I cry on shoulders...
But sometimes, on my own, I hear music, I hear the future, I hold my hand out and I'm scared to see whoís holding it
I conjure visions, visions of mist and trance music and sea breeze...
I see friends, on and off...parent, psychiatrist...
Gray hair, Appa, something inside, not outside.
And so he becomes things he never was when he was alive
A hand-holder through my own struggles
I clutch the hand in the air, I squeeze my eyes shut, tears flow, music throbs, regardless
Hold my hand, you, me, you or me, you are me.