Survivor

Like a survivor of the holocaust
whose memories are filled with sheer madness
of losses and who has a strength to host
the joy to be alive wrapped in sadness
or sadness wrapped in joy, I take my time
to savour what is left for me to relish -
the grace of an accidental rhyme,
where my pain, despite of being hellish
and bringing me to edges of abyss,
nevertheless, is still infused with awe,
transpiring in assonance with bliss
that God inspires right at my core.

My ears are attuned to Heavens’ choir
that sings in the iridescence of sky.
I am alive! What more can I desire?
And with this simple fact I can defy
my past. I can embrace
like a newborn - the properties of space
after a painful journey from the womb
to freedom; and my former tomb
has no power, – as Lazarus I gape
in wonder at the stone rolled away,
that destined was to hide from me the day
but, having a miraculous escape
and powerless to ever understand
the mystery of life and of death,
I’m taking as a gift my newly given breath
and stretch towards invisible my hand.

 20 August 2011