Danger

Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

The man in the white suit takes a sip of his

black coffee and readjusts his glasses, ‘says here you

rejected your own parole. You hiding from something?’ Getting

permission to stand in front of the guarded window, the prisoner bows

his head and releases a deep breath. ‘This place is safe. May not have all the

amenities of a free man, but these thick walls make up for that.’ Putting his pen

down, he asks the prisoner to elaborate, ‘are you trying to say that your life is

in danger?’ Walking back towards to his chair, he grips the sides of the

steel table and slams it into the man and directly into the wall.

Falling to his knees, the prisoner puts his hands behind

his head and prays for Gods forgiveness, ‘I need

to stay here. I am the danger.’

Photographer Unknown

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Risk

5/9/2017 “Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Photographer Unknown

via Risk — Eyes + Words

Welkin’s Requiem

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Behind the curtains

In a sterile cubicle

lays a senile man

with bony, delicate limbs

With milky eyes
starring into chilly fluorescent lights.

 

We stayed by this man for almost three days,
his wife must have lost count of the hours,
as she reminds him with a voice softer than a whisper,
of erstwhile memoirs and adventures.

 

Sleep deprivation was a small price to pay,

for people like him

so loving, good and kind,

Anyone but him deserves to die.

 

But who would’ve known before
that neath his jaundiced skin,
was a plague, spreading like fire,
fading his essence, making him tired.
A loquacious man,
strangled by silence.

I was walking in the corridor,

where eerie quietude echoed,

Suddenly comes a set of ragged breaths
that called me back to the unquiet room,
only to see his panicking children and collapsing wife.

The disturbing sound lasted for a while
but calmed all at once,
and we could almost hear death howling
as his essence slowly fades.

Blood throbbed heavily in my veins,
something clogged my throat,
I tried to swallow it but at the same time
a drop of saline silver

almost fell from the corner of my eye,
almost, but not quite.

 

Crying doesn’t help,
but maybe the sky think it does,
for that night heaven shrieks in pain,
exuding liquid melancholy.
Eternity fetched my dearest grandfather away,
and only eternity will feel my pain.

Risk

5/9/2017 “Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Photographer Unknown

via Risk — Eyes + Words