Modern life hurts the tenderness of our hearts
Thinking quietly, the heart pulsing barely a beat, but still here…
grieved and bruised to deepest of blue.
The lingering sincerest of memories: the clean red dust, settled on hard-working hands,
brows and feet… from working fields.
Sweet tenderness’; soft-spoken romances, whimsy and flowering gently,
as one walks in the garden of a grandmother’s flowers;
graces fluttering, wisping in the memories of hope in a kinder world.
All changed so brutally, sharply, suddenly.
Aching agony now, with modern life’s brash harshness
The smiles of young glorious sweet girls distract and lure away.
Luscious lips, unmarked skin, nurtured and blessed in just, youth.
These soft beautiful breasts wink, and long lithe golden legs,
dancing eyes beckoning, alluring in hope and vitality anew.
This modern world evokes us to fast change;
now dependent on instant gratifications;
urgent with prolonged pleasures to saté urges.
What of the precious years of love and growth gone past?
The tender building of foundations of kindness and sweet words
that others can rest their weary heads upon;
or rejoice in simple union of humanity in loving arms?
Shattered now, in realities of modern pressures – the rent, endless bills,
fighting those filthy criminals, as the dollar reigns supreme…
they won didn’t they – destroying all that was tender, good and pure.
Sad, quiet heart, grieves.
To hold the beloved’s hand again, renewed in purity; devoid of any bitter memories.
Amid the ashes of Kali’s destruction and Apollo’s thunderous roaring
– a calling to wage the war of truth.
Misunderstandings; self-deceits perhaps;
lessons ahead that cannot be avoided; or just a steely resolve… not, to feel.
For that human tenderness – a fallibility – a human vulnerability –
is what this modern life kills swiftly.
Joy flees again. Uncomfortable pain seeps through the poison of modern pressures,
once again, beauty, so tender and precious, flees to times ravages.
The heart aches for what is now gone…..
from the sweetest of embraces upon the beach sand’s bed of loving.
Now silence shouts loud in that vacuüm of emptiness; just a solitary time again.
Shells of time now, shut fast. For all changed, so swiftly.
One must protect oneself, even if by pleasures, to distract from that open cut – the void.
Can a healing ray of Tyrian’s soft light, cleanse away all that is now, harsh and barren…?
The eternal ocean’s tears of tides lap; but are far from a resolve.
Bird calls; dolphins still spin and sing.
But love has fled to an immortal waiting – the slate must be cleared.
Sweetness, like honey, one calls for to angels above;
as too, the deepest of peace and love to invoke, to be blessed again.
© Jaya Chela Drolma, September, 2013