Simi Joel

Category: Poetry

  • Who Would See?

    Darkness, despair, doom and gloom.
    To your left and right, day and night, you fight.
    To the world you smile, but within you hide.
    You stand in plain sight, yet daylight covers your pain.
    Who would see? Who would hear?
    Sight your tears and hear your cries.
    The screams for help, that your words can’t tell.

    Glam, glitter, grandeur and grace.
    You show up as the world demands, ticking off tasks as the days pass.
    In the day, you take the stage, and at night, the curtains fall.
    Who would see? Who would hear?
    Your trembling and fears, the groans of your soul breaking.
    There’s beauty in you, yes you know, but cannot see;
    Beyond the disappointments glazed over your dreams.
    You have a voice, but cannot hear it;
    Above the noises that scream ‘Give Up!’

    One day you’ll wake, past your breaking point.
    But you’ll stand again to take life’s stage;
    Choosing that day to be your last.
    You would bow, and the applause would rise.
    Then they would see, and they would hear.
    Grief and cries, but not your own;
    Over your soul, broken to dust.

    But about that day, I pray the world never sees.
    So, I’ll rather today choose to hear you near.
    I’ll be the one that heaven sends, sharing my light to pierce your dark.
    I’ll wield my kindness to break your veil and open my arms to reach your soul.
    Darkness and despair would disappear; then you would see, and you would hear.
    Hope would shine bright through your pain;
    Your dreams would wake, and you would live…again.

  • REMEMBER ME

    REMEMBER ME

    Remember me as a brightly coloured rainbow after the rain; not as a dark heavy cloud that cuts short the glee of kids at a playground.

    Remember me as your favourite hip hop song, playing on a long drive along a traffic free expressway; not as the knock of a bad engine on a hot afternoon.

    Remember me as the smile that brightens your day, and makes your heart jump for joy; not as the mournful look of a gambler whose team just lost a game.

    Remember me, not because I’m gone, but because my presence here is as fleeting as the last breath of lost wishes.

    Remember me, so that you may remind me of who I am on the days that I forget.

    Remember me.

  • HIDDEN SOULS

    HIDDEN SOULS

    The sun shone overhead in full glory.
    But the man stood in the shade as life zoomed past him,
    Unwilling to step out for fear of the heat that would burn his tender skin.
    ‘When evening comes’, he said, ‘I would ply my trade and spread my merchandise’.

    Her name was light, yet, she hid in the shadows;
    Held by demons named fear and unworthiness.
    Her days were night, and her nights darker still.
    When men asked why she hid, she pointed at the shadow only she could see.
    Within she asked, ‘when would I shine?’

    Then the storm descended, tearing apart all in its path.
    The streets wept, and all men fled, ‘cept these souls who stayed to be swept.
    But when the storm approached, it stilled.
    For hope stepped out with outstretched tender arms.
    She prodded and pushed, willing each to move.
    Fiercely and tirelessly, she yanked the roots that tied them down.
    And she whispered, her words echoing in the wind.

    This isn’t your place dear ones.
    Light should not be stifled in the shadows, nor beauty hidden in the shade.
    Yes, I see the fear in your hearts, but it’s illusion lasts only if you let it.
    Oh man, you have strength to withstand the heat.
    Dear woman, you are worthy of the glory within you.
    Step out and free yourselves, for within you lie the power to do so.’

    She breathed once, and in the next breath disappeared.
    The storm continued its journey and the sun rose again above the now quiet street.

    The man stirred and shivered once, and looked ahead.
    Without a glance back, he dragged his merchandise into the open street.
    She shivered also and a dash of light struck the soil at her feet.
    She gasped and felt the cold hold of darkness slip away.
    With a scream, she jumped and stretched her hands towards the street.
    The shadow fled, the sound of her laugh chasing closely at its heels.

    When men returned, they met a sight so glorious it out shone the sun.

    credit: google image

  • MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL

    ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’
    She stands before her reflection, like an accused before a judge.
    Silence rings out deafening and she shifts slightly waiting for her verdict.
    Then it speaks, it’s voice quiet at first.
    She strains to hear, and the voice emboldened grows louder.

    ‘Your question is weighty, for you are just one among many.
    If only you were taller, you would be fair enough.
    That crooked nose and freckled face are entirely out of place.
    Your lips, too dry and brittle; a little moisture might help your chances.
    Oh your waist, definitely too wide.
    That stomach, flatten it a bit would you?
    Your entire frame is disconcerting.
    If only you were more shapely;
    If only you were slimmer;
    If only you were fairer;
    If only…’

    A tear slides down her face and she wills to hide from herself.
    She swipes her hand to stop the falling tear.
    Alas, she’s too late.
    The tear hits the floor and ‘Crack’ the mirror breaks.
    Glass shatters and with it the voice fades.
    She stands dejected, then another beckons to her.
    She draws it out from a pile of rejects.
    The frame is worn, its glass dusty.
    She wipes off the dust and hangs it on the wall.
    After a slight pause she restates her inquiry.
    With tear stained cheeks, bloodshot eyes and smeared makeup.

    ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’
    Its soft words caresses her, touching her in a place she had long forgotten.
    ‘You were formed after the similitude of a palace;
    Created in the image of the perfect one;
    Crafted exquisitely with love;
    Every detail of you woven with delicate care;
    Heart of gold wrapped up in beauty, glory and virtue.
    You were made to be a cornerstone polished like a palace;
    Yet you stare at the world, embracing its standards.
    Gifted to heal broken hearts;
    Yet you wallow in self pity, obsessed with the opinions that belittle you.
    Look at me,’ the voice urges, it’s nudge hard to resist.

    She looks up, stares intently and her reflection soon transforms before her eyes.
    ‘Your seemingly uncomely parts are for honour;
    And in your overwhelming weaknesses lies strength.
    Be bold oh daughter of Zion;
    For you are the fairest of them all.

  • Self: The empty Journey

    Self: The empty Journey

    The strong voice of the preacher penetrated the quietness and resounded across the room. His words were so powerful that they seemed to penetrate the strong sturdy walls of the room… ‘I say to you, Love your neighbor as yourself.’ His animated gestures reflected the fervency of his heart.

    If only he could see the walls beyond the room; the barriers in the heart of men; the voice of the mind and the questions that nature raised.

    Out of the stillness, a voice screamed…’how do I love my neighbor when I do not love myself?’ Yes the voice of reason spoke out.

    In that split second, the focus of men shifted, and people sought for answers because of the appeal it made to their nature. Everyone forgot about the neighbor the preacher spoke of. The scramble for gratification became intense, and self became magnified. Oh how men sought and fought, shoved and strived, lied and manipulated, even maimed and killed to get their own way.

    In the quest for self, the satisfaction each man sought for eluded their reach. Just a little more, they thought, till days became years, and tears became rivers of blood. Then the ground opened up and received each one…empty!