Hearken!

Listen to me
listen
listen
listen
Listen to me.

Do you hear me?
Listen
Listen.

What do you hear?
Listen
listen.

What do you want to hear?
So, listen
Listen closely.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB
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Old Flame

There’s nothing
left
we’re now just
ashes
you say –

But for
ashes
to be
there must’ve been
fire
once.

I see
embers within
the ashes –
isn’t there a
spark
we can
rekindle?

Are we
burnt?
No,
you burn
in me
still.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB

Beyond

We went to the
movies
I still can’t
believe
you had said
yes –
In the dark
it was as if
we were
alone
watching the
stars
in the endless
night sky
together.

I stole a
glance
as you laughed;
you looked at
me
and pointed at the
acorn-obsessed
sabre-toothed
squirrel
on the screen –
“That’s you,”
you said.

You’re right
but
you’ll never
realise that,
to me,
you are
that acorn
my acorn
never quite
within
reach.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB

Please

I look at you
my eyes pleading
tell me
tell me
tell me you
love me.

You look at me
your eyes kind
you understand
you know what
I need
you say
you say
you lie to me and
say,
“I love you.”

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB

Microphone

They say
life is but a stage
and we are merely
actors
players
destined to act out
what has been
scripted
written in the
stars.

But there is a
stage
you and I
we see it clear.
Yet we are
afraid
we pretend it’s not
there
we refuse to play out
roles
we have no say in.

So we spend
days and days and
days
running and
circling
around our own
stage
but never on it
lost
afloat in
no man’s land.

But we have a
land
to call our own
made just for us
with a dedicated
microphone –
so step up
step up to the
stage
microphone
and enunciate your
words
intentions
goals
dreams
loud and clear
for the universe
listens
responds
resonates
to your spoken
will
because the stage
your stage
your microphone
is yours
and yours alone to
command.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB

Bench

We walked a little way
see that bench
over there?
I see it
I see it
we sat
we rested
took a break from
it all.

Perhaps we sat
too long
that when we got
up
we wanted
thirsted
for different
different
things.

After so long
I see
I see
see that bench again
the bench that saw
us last
before we left
left it
left each other.

It held our weight
our dreams
our love
and we left it
alone
thirsting
never quite knowing what
to do
with our
leftover selves –
for all that the
bench carried
we’ve forgotten
forgotten
all about that
bench
when we had been
together.

So when you see
that bench
stop awhile
just awhile
ask the bench
how it was
what memories
it held
think of me
think of us
how we used to
be.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB

Komorebi

It was one of those days, freezing cold seeping into the marrows of bones, fingertips painfully numb, exhaled pillowy mists instantly carried away in the winter wind. She hurried into the cafe and got her usual morning coffee. Holding it in her hands, she couldn’t tell if the warmth of the coffee soothed or hurt her as it thawed her digits.

Another dash – down one flight of stairs to work, and she would replace that harsh slaps of breeze with office heated air. But an old withered hand grabbed her arms with a strength incompatible with how it looked. Coffee rocked within the mug, spilling hot drops out of the lid.

“My child,” the old woman hissed, “listen to a near-blind woman who holds your fortunes in her hands.”

The young lady instinctively said she had no spare change.

“I don’t want your money. Only let me fulfill my destiny by telling you your fortune.”

There’s no harm, I guess, she thought to herself. She’s only an old woman.

You are without belief, child. It was in the voice of the old woman, but her mouth wasn’t moving, as if speaking to her mind-to-mind. You had it all at birth, and brimming in childhood. Curiosity and belief. Where is all that now?

The old woman’s iron grip sunk into her arms, imprinted.

You have the world in your hands, as I once had yours in mine. But know that if you go on obstinately keeping your eyes closed, with no trust, no belief, then it will all be for naught. You will not stay young forever. See me for who I really am, as you will at the end of times.

For my fortunes are in your hands.

And behind the old woman, the city’s skyscrapers melted away and reduced into dirt that will become pearls in oysters. As the sunlight filtered through the young leaves of spring illuminating her path before her, she saw and understood exactly who the old woman was.

Winter is no more.

She’ll make sure she would not just be another old woman. Believe.

 

 

COPYRIGHTED TINYVOICE CJB