Today my fingers

Today my fingers 
smelled like Omani halwa 
after I ate halwa from Grand Sweets.
And I wanted that beautiful scent to stay on 
-forever-
because it made me remember.

But then I decided;
sweet grease on my laptop’s keyboard 
phone’s keypad 
shiny oily patches on my pen the paper 
-everywhere-
wasn’t a good idea. 

So I took the soap 
went to the bathroom 
and washed it all off,
until
there wasn’t any scent.
 
And the awful finality 
of adulthood and times past 
settled over me 
like a stifling shroud.

Quiet

 

Sometimes,

those who grieve should be left to it.

There are times

when the embraces and soothing words

are sacrilegious;

they violate. They impinge.

Let the quiet

become the crucible

to hold those tears

to still their flow

to quell their sheen

to cool their warmth

to know their need.

The Oddmoment

So many deaths.

And each leaves

A blank; a quiet roaring black hole

In our lives.

Life tumbles past without a care,

but when we’re startled

by that odd, odd moment

that the grief chooses

to darken our thoughts

-- like those clouds that pass

across the sun

and make us stop

and look skyward

with a sudden discomfort --

we remember

that the bottomless Styx flows,

not between the Worlds,

but beneath.