The Morning Routine

 

A biological clock stirs me before the light,

A debt of sleep unpaid, yet I am awake.

For others, this "pressure" is an anchor for the soul,

A reason to wake up, a duty to undertake.

But for me, the pressure is a ghost in the room,

A vacuum that pulls the purpose from my lungs

before my feet have even touched the floor.

​I stay beneath the cozy blankets, hiding from the chill,

while my mind drifts back to the hills of childhood.

I see the hard paths I took, the steps I climbed,

Only to feel the earth slide backward beneath me.

It has been a habit for years, 

just when I’m nearly at the end of my paths,

A voice says, “You are done.”

I leave the path unfinished,

before the race is won.

​

The clock is ticking, the sun is up. Outside,  Robins and Tits makes their plans louder and louder. 

I move from bed to sofa, a change of sensus

That changes nothing at all.

The decaf coffee is warm in my hand, but the heart is cold;

I am back to my memories, shifting through the sand of my own routine.

I reach for the target, my hand outstretched,

Only for the invisible wall to reach once more. 

I give up. 

​The first time it happened, I called it "normal."

The second time, I called it "it's okay."

 Third time, I called it "fate". 

Now, I spend my time in a silence I have built for myself

A victim and a creator, living in a lonely world.

The messages flicker on the screen, the world still judges,

But their voise offers no meaning, no change, no "why."

They are signals from a life I cannot take part,

They are signals from a life I no longer recognize.

​Now brunch is drawing closer and the cup is dry.

I migrate to another location, 

this time a desk, beneath a cupboard where my treasure box is stored. 

I open the magic box, go through the memories once again, 

the routine takes its hold,

Preparing for another day of "almost the same,"

and a story that remains untold.

A lazy day. 

The morning routine. 

Sikaran 

21. 03.26

The Cloud

​It was dark, murky, and haunting.

It sucked the blood of the innocent

to fatten the pockets of the unkind.

For me and for many, this cloud was our only sky 

it lasted the length of my childhood,

weaving itself into every memory I own.

​I remember the day it struck our roof,

the shell blasting the earth just meters away.

We woke on mats of shredded Palmyrah leaves

shaking the dust from our lungs.

I remember being dragged into the bunker,

hiding from an attack that had no face.

They had no clue who they were targeting,

but the cloud didn't care.

​I remember the tree that stood in the way—

it took the shrapnel meant for my family home, 

Thanks to the wood which kept me alive. 

I remember the long lines for a loaf of bread,

and the single, flickering kerosene lamp

that gave us two hours to eat and study.

No phones, no power, no transport, no gas.

Only the radio humming with the BBC news at 9.15 pm,

while I studied, and studied, and studied—

the only weapon I had against the dark.

​I survived. I took all these years and dumped the memory

into a deep, locked corner of my mind.

But now, the cloud has returned,

and it is more horrendous than before.

​It is an oozing, suffocating fog

that feeds the ego of the powerful.

It enriches the sick and the selfish,

those who grow wealthy while the world burns.

I see it now, surrounding a new generation—

children making memories they should never have to hold.

​I look at them and I wonder:

How will they find a path through this smoke?

How will they figure out a future

when their present is written in fire?

The cloud steals their light just as it stole mine,

leaving them to navigate a world

built by those who thrive on their hunger.

​The cloud is back, but I am still here.

I survived the  storm, and I will survive this one.

But for the children in the war zone

how will they ever see the sun?

News:  The missiles reportedly destroyed a girl’s primary school in Middle East , killing around 150 and wounding almost 100. Many students are believed to be among the dead.

01 03 26 

Sikaran