Soulitude
Is there a space for the soul in solitude?
In traipsing through moist lands and stone-laid streets,
To locate a home, a sanctuary — to find the oasis
I was raised to believe one must offer ample footprints
Devote a spine-splitting labor with zipped lips
To keep walking ‘til the lands turn parched
To keep looking ‘til the skies are starched
Until your footmarks blur and vanish
Until your steps begin to relinquish
But how much “I take pride in my solitude” can one take
Before it curdles into a soulless search for salvage?
How long can one hum along in a choir
Before breaking into a sonata of desire?
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How deep must a prayer stay hidden in soliloquy
Before it reveals a hollow chant to a Deity devoid of mercy?
How much solitude can one take before it takes the soul away?
The moon wanes as I dawdle “home”
Street lights dim when spirits are low
Stuck in tunneled spaces where echoes grow
The wind whispers as I loosen my hold
1, 2, 3… then it clicks.
Somewhere along the line, the rhythm breaks
You‘d stop pleading for band-aids over bullet-torn aches
You‘d stop seeking shelter in loud, rusting cages
You‘d stop praying for miracles to rewrite your pages
Everything ceases
As if the world does, too
It might as well.
Now, with numb toes and calloused feet
Wishful thoughts scream from the cliff
Let the soul be no-man’s-land
Time has lapsed in the Wasteland.
