Owh, how human disappoints.
Like every other day, I get into my car and I step on my accelerator.
Drive to work, the same route, the same bad traffic, the same traffic lights. All known too well. But today, while I was in queue to start moving, I saw a push cart, with country’s flag on it.
It had a few boxes on it, and not too far away – a man sleeping on the grass, under a small tree. This is on a very very busy road, approximately about 50 cars pass by in the span of 5 minutes.
How little do I have, or rather, how much do I have.
I wanted to tell something to someone,
As looked at my dial-log, I realised your name isn’t there,
Its been a while papa, since I last heard from you.
I wanted to talk to someone about something,
I wanted to tell someone, about how disturbed I felt, I wanted that someone to understand my pain,
I wanted to feel like, ‘everything is going to be ok’.
I wanted to hear a voice that would comfort all molecules in my heart and made me feel less alone.
But I couldn’t find that someone, and I want you to know that I miss you so much dad.
in times like this, I wished I had a friend who could understand. I don’t understand this repetitive pain, I can’t even begin to grasps it, But I accept what life has to offer. May you look over me, where ever you are. I hope this pain, teaches me love, gentleness and compassion. Above all, tolerance. May it also teach me all the shades of grey life has to offer.
“I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know – unless it be to share our laughter.
“We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we love and want to be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.
“For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.”
James Kavanaugh on his first book of poems There Are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves. An ex-priest, he wrote it in the early Seventies when he was living in a tiny flat in New York, surviving off peanut butter and processed cheese. He died in 2009 at the ripe age of 81.