Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Archipelago

 

DSC04064

Photograph©by Vijaya Sundaram, 2008

Archipelago
©July 3rd, 2016

By Vijaya Sundaram

See that child who stands there near traffic
Dressed in rags, his face a mute plea,
While people walk around him, parting
Like water around a small rock,
A rock that’s slowly being eroded,
By water which never stops or slows,
While traffic flows by him, oil-slicks
In a sluggish sea on a stuporous day;

And that woman, brown-skinned, bright
Smiling, but strained, in a sea of white
Indifferent to her impenetrable loneliness
As she learns the facial tones and gestures
While they don’t comprehend hers,
As she aches to explain, but they
Close their faces to hers, not interested,
As their ships sail by her waving flag;

And that man being handcuffed by police
For standing, not disturbing the peace,
Not resisting, not being violent,
Just standing and waiting, headphones on
On the sidewalk, enjoying a second of
Being free in a supposed democracy,
While fear handcuffs the shoals of passersby
Not wishing to cause ripples in that unsafe water;

See them, and stop everything, everything.
Let’s build a bridge out of Christo-cloth,
So that we may walk freely, buoyantly across
On a hot, hot summer’s day, and transform
From islands to travelers, when we so wish;
So that we may choose to visit, and choose
To be, or not be, an island, so that we shall
Not live handcuffed by fear and indifference.

And, just in case, let us build more boats.

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Island

Island

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright- The Reclining Gentleman

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright- The Reclining Gentleman

Genre: I don’t know … existential non-crisis?

Word Count: 100 words

Island

©October 23, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

Shireen approached the bench slowly.  She’d been told to go there by someone in a dream which eluded her.  All she could recall was the urgency of the voice, its quiet authority.  It wasn’t a question of choice, she knew.

Loneliness was the thing Shireen understood beyond all else.  The voice had commanded her to face the void before her.

She faced the surging greyness, and let it wash over her.

Things took shape as she watched.  Something arose out of the waters.

She was alone no more.

And she was lonelier than ever.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers.  I look forward to it every week!

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