The Wire

idden truths I try to bury it deep within the library of memories I keep filed away, in an effort to shield myself from the pain which gnaws at me time and time again, but I hopelessly fail. The need to look over my shoulder is crucial. One lost look and it will eat into the deep embers of my soul. When I am reminded an incomplete smile forms around the corners of my mouth before my face contorts and small drops of tears begin to fall down my downtrodden facade. I say downtrodden because the memories are as sweet as honey and yet bitter as a glass of lemonade on a hot summers day. Night Over head the rain drops form their own rhythm on the tin roof while outside in the courtyard the squishing of mud by the feet of rushed servants begins another. This song was the perfect lullaby, but my eyes would not give into temptation. The guests were outside scrambling for whatever shelter they could find from the splash of monsoon rains. I sat as upright as I possibly could but it was get...

The international community is concerned with consuming the highest degree of political and economical power as possible. Or they’re having a competition over who has the greatest Nuclear program at hand or which Palestinian refugee is climbing over some stupid wall, put up by a bunch of inhumane cold blooded rejects, to enter his OWN land. But they ignore the real issues at hand. There’s a disease right now that’s spreading at a very fast pace and this illness will most probably decimate the future of our world. Innocent children are being stripped of their childhoods and forced to work when they should be sitting in classrooms enjoying the fountain of knowledge. These children are our future; they are the next presidents, doctors, innovators, human rights activists who will someday change the lives of the generations before them and the ones to come. The practice of illegal child labour is widely practiced in Nepal, they’re known as Kamalaris, children forced into labour at young ...

If and when she mentions how she’s bored and would like to return to work her husband casts a disapproving look towards her and changes the subject or tells her she has no time to work.  He asks who will cook his dinner, who will serve his dinner, who will starch and iron his shirts, and who will do the housework.  When she says she can do it ALL and work, he tells her this is her job, taking care of the house and his needs...Load of Bs....I know Soon after she starts popping kids and then it’s all downhill... Some time down the road, after a few kids, this Stepford wife realizes she has no identity for herself, years have been wasted on a MAN, and she begins to resent him.  Now she has three roads to travel down, either she continues with life as it is or puts her foot down and begins to create her own identity outside the house or arguments develop, resentment deepens and the marriage ends..... Some of you might think a few of my descriptions are over the t...

It felt like a dream when I awoke.    I couldn’t believe I was in a luxurious suite here in Prague.    For the past two years I had been contemplating taking a vacation, but it was always something that would hold me back.    Tuesday evening after work I went out to dinner with Richard, my boss and close friend, and we got talking.    He was telling me about his last vacation and where he hoped to go this year.    I remarked on how lucky he was to have the time for all these escapades.    Richard put down his wine glass and cast an intent look on his face. “Grace, what’s the point of living life if you never take the time out to discover and enjoy it, “he said. “Besides I barely ever plan these holidays, they’re always at a moment’s notice.  It’s not really that hard booking a flight last minute and packing a bag,” he said smiling. “You should do it.  I’ve known you for the last three years and you’ve neve...

I held onto you tight And stayed close to you. They pulled out their guns As we slowly backed away. Then one of them said, “Wait, we want you to stay.” I could feel my heart pounding, I wanted to cry, All I could think was I don’t want to die. What happened next, I don’t even know. It all happened so fast But yet so slow. The next thing I knew You were lying at my feet. They walked away laughing And left you in the street. I fell to my knees And I held you close. My tears dampened your hair And your blood stained my clothes I cried and cried Hoping you’d come back to me, But you just lied in my arms, As lifeless as can be. No one came NO one even cared. I screamed to God, “Why couldn’t you have been spared?” Now I’m getting to the end Of my long sad poem. I hope you’re happen In your heavenly home Always remember Our love is true And wherever you are I’ll be thinking of you.

When I see her tears, her pain why do I ache in here? Is this justice? If the burden of both tears and pain were her, what justice would that be? Were her tears and her pain to be mine, justice would be done The tears welled up from her heart. I made her cry.  When her tears stream down here why do I ache in here? She says I don’t understand anything.  If I never understood anything, How come I understand what I am and what she is ?

After a gruelling 20 minutes stuck in traffic we had finally reached the train station.  We raced up the stairs, bought out tickets, got the Platform A, and had a few minutes to spare.  He found a seat for me but I was too nervous and terrified to even think about sitting.  I looked down the platform trying to see if the train was arriving, but no sign.  I found myself pacing up and down thinking that there was no turning back now. The sickening feeling I’d felt since I woke up returned once again.  Was it because of the nerves or just another reminder of my state?  Knowing what was coming I rushed into the restroom and made a dive for the sink.  This was probably the tenth time I’d gotten sick since I’d found out; yesterday morning it was the smell of jam donuts. All of a sudden I realized this would be the last time it would happen.  I caught my reflection in the mirror and at that moment I felt such hate for myself.  What sort of person ...