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Come In 5 April 2007

Posted by ABD in ABD, Poetry.
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You once fit
in the cradle of my knee:
you’d come racing to me, bury
your face in my shirt, and
I’d just hug the hurt away.

How do I reach you now when
you stand alone on the shore,
too far out to hear me,
too tall to give in?

Come in, my son, come in.

The tide has washed me out,
and I stand alone on the shore.
A hole where the sun used to be.
If only some great hand would
restock the sand, refill the sea
and set things right again.

Give me a minute, and
I’ll be right in.

You’ve grown into your own,
but you needn’t stand alone
on that strip of shore: if I sit up
and you slouch lower,
you can rest your head
on my knee again.

Come in, my son, come in.

.
March 2007 (in progress)

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Comments»

1. The Turk - 31 December 2007

good…

my answer would be as the son:

will the hurt of living as an adult go away
as quickly as the hurt I got when I fell down running
and you hugged that away?

As an adult; everything is duller. There is no enjoyment.
There are bills to pay. Children grow up and move away.
You grow old and infirm and to dust till we called up again
by the Trumpet and we have to wait if somehow by Allah’s mercy
got saved. and IF not? All has been for nothing and we screwed.

Can you take away hellfire? Can take away the hurt when you
see people die and bleed and suffer everyday? Can you take away the barrier you built around in your heart against the suffering of the world, Can you take away the first time I realized when people die. And that I would die too.

To suffer is human; and no bended knee can take that away.
Maybe comfort for a fleeting moment.
Thats what life is a fleeting moment of pain, joy and suffering,
The suffering & pain makes its long… The joy is a nanosecond.

Damn. First question I will ask is why?


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