Halfway

c r a Z Y

"You're crazy!"
"I know!"

★ One Year - A poem I whipped up out of no where ★

Sunday, September 4, 2011 ( 8:50 PM )

One Year.
Fireworks erupt,
The spotlights are aimed,
and we laugh.
Though one year ago, we would have jumped
At all loud noises.
Any sign that the ground would begin to heave,
Any sign that Mother Nature was going to leave
us alone.
No. No.

It was the day we learnt how to shelter,
under that in which we had eaten over,
or spent endless hours on gruelling homework.
It would stand again
to keep us preoccupied,
to keep us sane,
to keep us alive.
4 short legs, suddenly brought us satisfaction.
One year ago, we learnt to be resourceful.
Taking the lemons as they were,
bruised,
but very much usable.

One year ago we learnt to be human in the humblest of ways, because suddenly,
everything was taken away, and like they taught us long ago in kindergarten,
Sharing is caring.
When left with nothing, people found the strength to give more,
Even though we almost assumed it was impossible to care for
Others
when you could barely care for yourself and your own spouse,
and the earth figeted underneath your very own house.
We found that strength.

One year passed today,
from when we were scattered and left to fumble blind.
And on a system of our country, amongst the greeny blue, a line,
was drawn
to signify surrender and to help us prepare for our next battles.
Silently fighting.
Sidelines and trenches we dug out, dark clay simmering into our lawns as a sign,
Invincible forces trying to prove their power, but we held on to whatever we had near.

On this day one year ago,
flowed
the tears without warning.
Marked upon us was the change,
marked on those with or without age.
Tortured souls and optimists fought the battle
hand in hand, side by side.
Without further hassle, we rubbed away the dust
which had clogged our vision.

And through our new looking glasses,
We saw, the Earth, alive as it was, ignored.
A wake up call, the rumble as it could muster,
reminding us the land we live on could not be,
concrete.
And a country became bound by a beautiful
tragedy, and our short history became crippled
yet the ground refused to surrender without sacrifice,
Wrung about, it reared it's neck one final time,
and the smell of death took place in our city.

Satisfaction is not something we take,
for granted,
Not anymore.
Because we learnt how nothing is safe,
nothing is lasting
nothing is infinite,
except the force that overcomes all
And we are nothing alone
but together we are as infinite
because
that was the work

Of One Year.

Poems are cool.
And this poem was a complete fluke. But I'm quite happy about it.