SPRKS IN CSF: O so important (a poem by Pc3)

SPRKS IN CSF: O so important (a poem by Pc3): So important I feel, I am  a snow flake Floating the web, As it floats down ... Oh so important I flutter, In the Far corners of cold,...

SPRKS IN CSF: reflect I on (a poem by pc3)

SPRKS IN CSF: reflect I on (a poem by pc3): I want to take this space to reflect, as the year draws to a close. First things first ... I am afraid to reflect, For fear if my thou...

O so important (a poem by Pc3)

So important I feel,
I am  a snow flake
Floating the web,
As it floats down ...
Oh so important I flutter,
In the Far corners of cold,
Fetted by the chill,
Still valued by the icicle,
For I add, beyond my very knowing...
Somehow,my value calls
To the wilderness,
To the bear to trample,
Ample fruits of a shine,
Flakes of truth to a trawl,
I float,a tiny glimmer, a hope-
Ever so brief,yet so important,
I am a snow flake,o"so important'...

Trump's wins -a loss? ???

Now What...

Emptied souls,surely not.

      Not mourning, but......
Just - Being quiet
            For a moment
                   To recharge
                          To act...

                                  Yes , Much rests on our shoulders,

Hence WE MUST,

MOVE , UNITED,we must

         A threat is to humanity's core,
             Nurtured values.............................
                      Assault is to our essence ...
           Hence , MOve ,
              Act to stop,
                   Yes, to indeed stop....
           
                    The Death to all  progress, that looms,
                  To stop before it blooms,
                    Consuming all in a cloud of hatred.....
    Yes, we are destined to act,
In the face of  'Dementors', before our souls are gone............
         
       

on Rape and molestations- ( a repost for our present times)

"The future of nations is echoed in the footfalls of its women..."

In the past few days I have read, about rape --recent , past, date rape ...all kinds of rapes , all those which almost got squished to 'non'.
I go back again and again to review life, times,events. One thing is clear to me. We have moved, but just stay shifting  in the same spot. Faces and people have changed but the focus has been and still is on the victim. Be it in the US, Nigeria, syria, India, Pakistan or anywhere in the world. Some how those accusatory  raised sharp pointed finger is static...pointed to the victim always .
Be it intra-marital rape, date-rape or stranger rape , incest, or any molestation, it seems that the all powerful fingers points to the victim.  some of us , we just  re-live the traumas yet again as another story is unlocked.I believe the worst of it is the apathetic response by the surrounding world.
That first time you slink into the fold of society, that has normalized your role as prey,especially when you are a child.It is always about power and control struggles in a society...why disrupt those  functioning system indeed?
all those questions that drown out the event....
'what about that other person who did try to prey, what about his life,his societal stand'... Then you remember, and you  recognize the one who questioned that norm, who stood up and would not back down, when the normalizors all said 'it was an accident, or was someone just being playful,or the child just got scared... after all nothing happened...blah blah blah'...I had forgotten one of the many such event last night ,(the details are now fuzzy, lost to memory) but it came as a shock, how my grandmother went to confront my neighbor,with me the reluctant child in tow...I wanted her to do what all those others were saying, leave it be. Their chorus still rise as a loud din- he won't do anything again, what about his mother, why cause a stink, what about his marriage prospects, blah blah blah.... in our quiet village.
Well then again that is why  people always sought her wise counsel in all sorts of matters, I guess. She never backed down from what was right ,even if many considered only the discomforts of upsetting a staid system ... I got that strength which never left me, may have laid dormant at times though...   Is the current statistics of some form of sexual violence say 'one in four girls or one in five women?'
What about those of us who slide in and out of your daily lives, wearing our daily masks  , never acknowledging any of it...tucking away our hurts, our fights all to a corner of our memory boxes..
what about those of us who go to sleep and wish we could escape the nights terrors... what of the children who carry that weight as a mantle of shame and set themselves up for a more brutal future in their silence.
They say silence is golden, I believe it is a golden cloak for the perpetrator..such a glow from all the silences  that lay heavy just for the victim. Each choice of silence I am sure is a decision in the face of the chaos that stretches into the uncertainity of future, in a condemning society that is ready with their pointed fingers, be it at Stanford or anywhere else...yet we find our voice some times , beyond the heaviness and the din...
so what is the real rate ,for being victimised,worldwide...could it be  more like one in two or may be near  ten out of twelve.Or is the reality more close to one out of one... Whatever the numbers, next time you look at  your mother , your grandmother,your sister, your friend, a minister, even a queen, ...look into the depths of those eyes and for a moment wonder what secret pains had crossed them... you may never know... you may never be told of their courageous actions either...
so much gets quiet over time, yet so much courage is around us

SPRKS IN CSF: america imploding -

SPRKS IN CSF: america imploding -: Ethics lay by the wayside, Compassion has died slow... In its ashes has sprouted dominance. I breathe the moral implosion, As breaths a...

SPRKS IN CSF: Elie Wiesel

SPRKS IN CSF: Elie Wiesel: "We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormente...

Elie Wiesel

"We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest."

 

Peace at last , beyond memories ,

those that never can rest,

rest at last , to a dear soul,

that touched many ,

wisdom that helped,

beyond our days , 

even as hope dims ,

a ray that guide...peace at last!

                                  copyright @peace crane 3

SPRKS IN CSF: thoughts on fear unleashed

SPRKS IN CSF: thoughts on fear unleashed: I go to chaos theory and butter-fly effects, to explain the fear unleashed on us. But that does not stop me in my tracks, quite contrary......

thoughts on fear unleashed

I go to chaos theory and butter-fly effects, to explain the fear unleashed on us. But that does not stop me in my tracks, quite contrary... I want to go back and write even when day to day life upstages me with a variety of activities to be tended to , pushing for attention, even as the children call out to be attended to. Despite all this I feel this urge... I want to put it into words. Fear is that which has no form, the unknown...
But I for one cannot say I am afraid. I may be more cautious, but you cannot push me to be afraid and I was never a coward. I am cautious, but no, do not mistake it for cowardice. I lost fear  to an almost impulsive urge to face up to any threatening situation so long ago , in my early child hood...yes it was gone when I first met a snake, face to face. Instinct made me walk away, even as I was spell bound , all curious yet with pounding heart.Some days I still hear that pounding if I listen for it in the stillness of the night.
Yet with age and wisdom I do not run into threats, Instead I still go on with my mind clear and my head held high, even as I stoop with age. The acts of violence, that was unleashed...they just make me think more, for you cannot rain fear on me, nor can you steal my thoughts.
I will still go to the cafes , clubs, to the malls and beaches. The few that have darkened their souls with their acts do not  make me afraid, for they are inconsequential blots in our time , they too will get erased...corrupted ideologues, in any religion or policies will add to the chaos theory like a butterfly effect, but the goodness in people will have to appear to counter that alternate trace left by some distorted minds...
So you will see me on the streets, stores, crowds, unafraid,my mind clear , and my head held high despite the stoop in my frame , my sluggish gait, despite all that age does to my physique, or the bounding distracted appearing youth , with all hopes intact....yes I am each one who  you see, without the taint of fear, seemingly unassuming, average ,but the one you cannot taint, be it with the unleashed violent acts or the rhetoric from somewhere there...the one you should really fear is each one of us,ones like me... 

SPRKS IN CSF: Japan-images, fuzzy yet may be clear

SPRKS IN CSF: Japan-images, fuzzy yet may be clear: As the dawn creeps along on the tail of fading darkness, I lay somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Some images come floating by again....

Japan-images, fuzzy yet may be clear

As the dawn creeps along on the tail of fading darkness, I lay somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Some images come floating by again...vivid, more bright, full of life than life itself.
I connect these and recognize the dots, the dots of fire that dance all around me, flickering,little tongues and comma-shaped worms ...all curling up along the wall.  The repeated theme of my nightmares before I was even four...nightmares that came with my birth, pieced into my awareness , may be even before birth. I would call out  and some-one  get me down from my  be,or soothed me. they were there even  before I learned to stretch  and crawl up the steps at my grandmothers house.
They stayed even on the day I heaved myself grasping at the hard cement step, holding to the edge of the stone that jutted out a little, enough for my tiny fingers as I hauled up scraping part of that four year old abdomen.I had scampered after my grandmother as she went along to feed the goat somewhere under a  low tree.I followed her foot steps that stayed as fleeting depressions on the wet grass.I followed these depressions gingerly as I wanted to see her awed joy at my new and unexpected ability..
Jewels of the first dew drops smiled at me and at the morning sun that peeked through the leaves. Fear had stopped me briefly as I neared the top of the stairs...the vast expanse of the universe in front  looked scary and different from all my previous reference points.  As I climbed that last step  the yard seemed smaller yet big, but  an attainable expanse. I had brought along my friend, invisible to all others, talking to him,the encouraging words and looks keeping me busy and with that courage I had made that epic climb.Of course he would become very quiet if any body came by, but would look at the adults and blink the eyes to tell me to be quiet. The only exception was my gandma, some-times..
When  finally I caught up with my grand-ma she had that surprised look...for "there i was...indeed"...both of us excited about -growth catching up.
Despite all these landmarks , the nightmares came. They came nearly everyday. My invisible friend could not do anything...but just watched, powerless.
  I never really understood then, nor paid much attention to those dreams  for most of my life, those nightmares stayed in the back up stack of memories...until I visited Japan. As I walked through Hiroshima, there was one picture by someone who had seen it, the horror, the awful depth of the horrors  at some far off time...
He had  seen it and lived it...My nightmares , exactly as I had them, so exact, so clear,yet he drew them, lived that ,with no way to escape ..... The flickering glow of fire worms, against the gray orange of the days, the all enveloping heat and the hazy orange gray of evening.... I used to wake up screaming "puthan, poothan' , then I could hear a jumble of conversations as a faint murmur of sounds , and it just repeated  night after night
  Then as I walked out to the park by the  river it came, as a vision , the recall merged into something I could not express...just profound fears next to past horrors..the fear of water in my little river where the ground shifted, algae that felt to my child hood mind as grasp by hands,all pulling me down.I had tried to tell my mother,she just said" it is just algae, it cannot catch you or pull you", all matter of factly.. My fear of that algae was so extreme, that I could not  step in without checking for the green algae in the water,but I loved the river so, yet feared.I understood that feel of silt on the quite side of our small river which I had tried to describe to my cousins as they wanted to play in that part...tried telling them how it felt like people, like a doughy yield of skin,but they just laughed and splashed water at me. I stayed to my safe area where the gravely sand was never soft,but cushioned my feet pressing gently against my tiny arches,my tiny feet.
In the park I sat on a bench, thirsty,parched throat that refused to be hydrated despite the water and milk tea...
The stone lanterns in the park, the carved stones- there it was again, what I had obsessively drawn,tracing the outline,despite the annoyance in  every adults' glance. Finally my grand-mother bought me a slate and slate pencil,so I could draw with a clean washed surface each time as the pictures filled up that board. Yet it remained the same picture..over and over. It was one of those lamps in silhouette....I had forgotten about my constant drawings until I saw that lamp  , just as I passed by it that evening.. my children stared at my tears and were concerned, rightly so....then it all came to me as a flood of memories, all locks broken, from some unknown past pieced into my present life...
It had never crossed my awareness that rebirth may be possible, but now I am not so certain. I do not have clarity about my imaginary friend, but one was by me all that time...may be still is,or will come...The nightmares are still vivid in my memory, so is the feel of the algae and the silted riverbed. I can close my eyes and feel those, same feelings. They rushed through my mind again this morning as I moved into wakefulness,thus that uncertainty has taken form and spilled out as words.Now that it has found some clarity,the disquiet has calmed itself again. In one sense I only belonged to my grandmothers house, yet the only other place I felt happy and really that same sense of belonging  was just in Japan. How can I explain that sense of "not quiet right" even when I build a home, even through the many countries I have been to and yet never felt 'I know the place, that I was fully part of it in any way', with a disquiet, a longing...
     May be this is where my affinity for Buddhist philosophies came into being-or may be it was there all along waiting to get out into my conscious thoughts,despite another religion that enveloped me always, that I have passed on to my children, along with some life principles that I strive to ...I will never know with certainty,will I? Instead I will continue to course through life trying to cause the least damage all around as those principles advise......