Haiku for a Gloomy Day

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Somewhere In Between

Tonight someone took a break from the

doom and gloom on the nightly news, took

one last sip of coffee, and

strolled across town to see the house he grew up in. 

Nothing was different, except the

colour, the

new fence, the

family now living in it. 

But it was still the same old wooden house;

and as nostalgia settled in

and tears rolled down his face,

 his soul smiled.

Tonight a stranger’s day was brightened

with nothing but a

look and a smile. 

Sometimes we

forget where we are,

who is near and

what’s at stake

and for a moment

we allow ourselves to

feel like Atlas. 

We let the weight of the world

rest on our shoulders and

 it’s on days like those that

sometimes, all it takes is a

look and a smile.

Tonight in an alley a

few blocks down,

someone got robbed.  And

as a young man sprinted off into the night,

the police gave chase. 

It’s a frightening truth to

face that times are changing, when

not too long ago anyone could

walk around until

the wee hours of the morning.   

But jobs are

increasingly harder to find,

and it’s so much easier to

take from someone who already has...

and sometimes has very little.

Tonight, friends are singing at the

top of their lungs as they

walk home drunk,

holding hands,

reluctant to let go of the

good times they’ve just had

before they must retire to

one bedroom apartments,

6am wakeup calls

and a day spent at a

nine to five

before they can all meet up again.

Tonight, on a deck,

in the middle of a subtropical jungle,

a boy counted

205 shooting stars

in the span of 2 hours; and

for every single one of them,

he wished the same wish...  

Now, this is not the

typical wish made by a 9 year old... but

this is not your ordinary 9 year old. 

Behind his

boyish excitement and

the warmth in his eyes

is a heavy heart. 

A heart weighed down by

civil war and genocide,

a heart with but one wish:

Peace.

Tonight, a mile above the Atlantic Ocean,

in anticipation of a

forthcoming inquisition,

a young man dreamt of freedom;

freedom from biases,

or prejudice. 

At this precise moment, a

young woman also dreamt of freedom;

freedom from mental and sexual slavery. 

And at that very moment,

two perfect strangers from

very different clans

found Nirvana

and were reborn.

Tonight after many reclusive years,

running from his fears and

painful memories, after

many nights spent on

park benches,

warmed only by the

thought of home

and a flask of whiskey;

 after many months bouncing from

odd job to odd job with

no care for a stable future;

after one too many bar fights;  

the prodigal son found himself returning home.

Tonight two lovers’ eyes

glisten in the moonlight,

their skin becomes electric with

every caress, their

lips beckon for more with

every kiss, their

souls collide as they

stare into each other’s eyes and

a void is filled

as they share the same bed for the first time.

Tonight someone gently brushed the

long brown hair that

covered his loved one’s left ear as he

whispered three tender words,

but despite his expectations

she hung her head and

wept, as she

confessed a secret kept.

Tonight a man got his heart broken

Tonight, from behind a chain-link fence,

three dogs serenaded a

red, glowing full moon with a

crescendo of howls, and they

could care less about the

angered neighbours or their

yelling owner

begging them to stop. 

No,

they were too busy

beckoning the sun’s reprise.

Tonight, somewhere

half way around the world,

it’s now morning.

Tonight a man heavy-footedly walked away from

the round table he sat at, while

five other men drank, smoked, and laughed...

he thought of

how he would tell his

wife of 33 years that

he’d just lost their life’s savings at a

game of cards.

Tonight, on a train going somewhere,

a mother breastfed her month old child;

some smiled,

some were disgusted by the act,

others were oblivious... but the

child could not be bothered.  She

simply fed;

careless and

carefree. 

Oh,

to be so innocent...

so unaware of

worldly challenges; of

war;

religion;

rising costs and stagnant wages...

Tonight the dust was blown off the

face of an old LP, and as

the sitar on track one of side two

echoed across an empty room,

a man remembered that

we are all one and

life goes on within us

and without us.

Tonight, the police gunned down a

14 year old boy as he

ran from a crime scene, and

as he laid there in a pool

of his own blood,

clasping 5 dollars in one hand,

and a cell-phone in the other,

I can’t help but think of the irony...

Because tonight,

8 blocks to the east,

in an old wooden house

in the middle of the city,

as a man stares from behind a picket fence,

somewhere in between

a whisper and a dream,

a child was born.

© José V. Guerra Awe

Ofrenda

El sol

Me dio la vida

La luna

Claridad

El fuego dio

Pasión

El viento

Libertad

La lluvia dio

Frescura

La tierra

Educación

La montaña dio

Su fortaleza

El loto

Ilustración

La marea dio

El vaivén

El volcán me dio

Calor

La selva

Su energía

Y tú me diste

Amor

© José V. Guerra Awe

Driftwood

Adrift

Without a sail

Longing for the sturdiness

Of a shore

I am a wandering driftwood

Commanded by the tides

I willingly succumb to the

Constant ebb and flow

The rise and fall

The might of crashing waves

Tempests often change my course

Reefs impede my navigation

And though unscathed

Resolute and enduring,

I am humbled by the depth

Of the oceans everlasting wisdom

Awakened by the setting sun

I await the guidance

Of the loyal stars

And even though

My wandering eyes

Hunger for the coast

I’m content to be

Adrift

© José V. Guerra Awe

Terminal

Lentamente

La marea

Empieza a consumirse

Las insignes huellas

Que has dejado

En las dunas

De mi corazón

Y en el desengaño

De la arena mojada

Resucita un viejo llanto

Me posee la nostalgia

Al recordarme

De tu rostro

Suspiro

Al mirar la gente

Subir y bajar

Del autobús

Al mirar la gente

Ir y venir

Como la marea

Cada persona

Borrando la huella

De la anterior

Y de nuevo

Resurge la nostalgia

© José V. Guerra Awe

Moonstruck

Hail to you seductress

Who so boldly shines forth into the twilight

Who commands the ebb and flow of the tides

Who incites all wild creatures to be free

In your undying passion

Hail to you oh temptress

Who with your glowing luminescence

Awakens the midnight hour

Who with your gleaming visage

Illuminates even the heaviest of eyes

You who have inspired sonnets simply with your smile

Hail to you oh holy satellite

Who faithfully guides the farmer’s hand

You whose radiance facilitates a lover’s serenade

You who whether full, half, or crescent

Compels me to adore you!

© José V. Guerra Awe

Jugo de Lima

Más allá de los muebles

Y los retratos,

 Detrás del cristal de la ventana,

Fluyen las ramas de un pequeño limero.

Ellas bailan,

Como si al compás de la guitara

En una pieza de Jobim

Y con su sensual balanceo

Me incitan a mover los pies

A la cadencia de esa dulce

Bossa Nova

Que le toca el viento.

Sus verdeantes manos

Me llaman hacia

Su espléndido rostro.

Me seduce

Con tan solo una mirada.

Me profesa su amor eterno

Al ofrecerme la agrura de su

Fecundidad,

Y no se la niego.

Saboreo la ternura

De su cuerpo viviente.

Tomo de su sangre vigorizante

Al hacerme un fresco

Jugo de lima.

© José V. Guerra Awe

Nightmare

A nightmare gallops,

From behind the shadows,

Across the muddy fields

Of my consciousness,

Like a war horse

Charging into battle,

Trampling all sense of hope.

As each coronet sinks into the dirt

My core rattles;

I quiver...

The cadence of every fourth beat

Beguiles me,

I’m paralysed;

Defenceless...

At every suspension

My heart seizes...

I anticipate obliteration

As she stampedes toward me.

But with every break

In her thunderous gait

I begin to realise that

My insecurities are her farriery

My fears are the hay

That fuels her brio

My odium is the dam

That birthed her.

She rears before me

But I’m unfazed,

Planted...

As she settles

I embrace her.

She is green...

Untamed

I mount her

Grasp her mane

And suddenly,

The nightmare

That once evoked

A bitterness within me...

This shadow

That once made me cower

Is now the source

Of my enlightenment

And slowly,

Socks...

Then a snip...

Then a blaze...

I find myself mounted

On a white steed

Of illumination

And just before the dawn,

I sleep soundly

©José V. Guerra Awe

La Paz

Quizás he caminado por tus calles

Ciegamente acumulando tus detalles

O tal vez te he pasado en un pasillo

Donde se rozo tu brazo junto al mío

Quizás jugamos juntos como niños

Y cruzaron por casualidad nuestros destinos

O tal vez vivimos juntos en algún pasado

En un tiempo que no fue el apropiado

Quizás nacimos del mismo estuario

Dos peces embotellados en el mismo acuario

O tal vez te he soñado por una eternidad

Deseando que tu caricia se convierta en realidad

Y aunque pase mil siglos añorando

Tu rostro siempre me estaré imaginando

Al caer una estrella fugaz

Siempre deseare la paz

© José V. Guerra Awe

Nimbus

It rises from beyond

The mountains adorning the horizon

Reminiscent of childhood memories

Dragons, giant turtles, pirate ships

Futilely I attempt to decode

This smoke signal

Seeking atonement,

Absolution,

Cleansing...

Recollection of a moment past?

This language fell victim to attrition

Many moons ago

Along with milk teeth

And childhood innocence

In lieu of this

Primordial intelligence...

Emptiness

Try to decipher

The significance

Of this nimbus omen

But I was not meant to understand

Merely to observe

Left only to admire

As it shape-shifts

And transpires

Into its true form

Perhaps cleansing

Is imminent

It looks like rain...

© José V. Guerra Awe

Obertura 1812

Tirado en el piso

Brazos extendidos

Como las alas de un albatros

Que vuela sobre alta mar

Siento como si estuviera

Suspendido justo por encima

De la realidad

Oídos a la tierra

Siento mi latir seguir el ritmo

De los cañones en la

Obertura 1812 de Tchaikovski

El ventilador  tiernamente

Acaricia mi espalda desnuda

Su brisa fluye a través

De los filamentos gruesos

De mi pelo negro

A dos metros,

Un pequeño batallón

De hormigas carpinteras

Marcha a lo largo de las

Ranuras de las baldosas

Cada cañonazo

Resucita un remordimiento

Cada latido

Suelta una pena

Y de repente,

Me siento como Gulliver

Atado por los Liliputienses

Cierro los ojos

Y en la oscuridad,

Me miro tal y como soy

Con todas mis inseguridades,

Caídas… imperfecciones

Recuerdo lo que con gran pasión

Una vez defendía y valoraba

Me doy cuenta

En la claridad de mi desnudes,

Sobre el caos de los latidos del cañón

Nacidos del altavoz en el salón,

Que la paz que siempre procuraba

La claridad que siempre yo deseaba

Estaba siempre dentro de mí

Y sobre el piso frio,

Con cada cañonazo

Cada latido de my corazón

Me siento… libre

© José V. Guerra Awe