deer in solitude

my life is in the solitude

like a deer wounded

and deserted

by the herd

and i live in this seclusion

rebelling

refusing to run like a coward

with the herd

my courage

made me pause

to stop and watch

my pursuer

making self

a vulnerable beast

to continue

wildly in this cave

abandoned previously

to be healed

or i am completely

dead

henry victor     05.01.2003

varied roads

Miller and i together met our master Jesus

the Nazarene in whose school we schooled

before we drove together on the highway

until we came to the single junction

at the junction with no signals we decided

to part our ways; Miller took the path

lit throughout the way enjoying power

in the roadway of magic filled with pilgrims

those pilgrims sang the name of the master

as i took the path, unlit with only few trekking

this service road was named: nameless

with neither power nor magic to make it easy

henry victor     11.01.2003

hidden fruit

 

he had been and continues

to be a fruit hidden behind leaves

but ripe and sweet as any other

fruit, visible or sparkling

though like any other he glows

with gloss, men and women

and children with prejudices

for the transgender has mistaken

and he is considered a root

good only to hold the tree

from falling while other fruits

to be praised go to the market

© henry victor

hurt

 

teach me to weep

when my heart is hurt

teach me to sleep

when my body is hurt

teach me to creep

when my mind is hurt

teach me to sweep

when my soul is hurt

© henry victor     11.01.2003

mother earth

the earth

hides beneath

all that is worth

to worthy

she opens her veil

yielding freely

like the mother

to her babe

yielding tenderly

from within

becoming

vulnerable

also for rape

as happens

to earth

© henry victor     13.01.2003

focus

two roads diverged at a junction, as i drove

my Ford Focus wagon on the snow
stormy afternoon: one was highway 651
and the other the Grizzly Trail

with no car behind i slowed down to pause

but was sorry i could not travel both, turning
then, to one looked a white carpet with no trace
of tired tires, or tracks of worn out trucks

with only a discrete distinct focus in mind:

shortest route, quickest way home!
and in any case i was no Robert Frost
to take the one less traveled by!

now, i doubted whether i should return

to the trodden black path, until another overtook
my focus: a deep desire to learn the art
to drive also in the slippery arctic, the Polar Trail!

knowing the way to a colored

an insecure immigrant
can be slippery and cold
altering, again, my further focus

© henry victor     10.01.2003

loss of my land

i was proud of my land

water clogged and swampy

cost me a small song

but providing a great opportunity

to establish my nonconformity

i cherished the three trees that came

with the swamp: a young Palmyra palm

a Neem, and a Wood Apple

supplying me shade and hope

i saw the trees growing faster

as i fertilized and poured plenty of water

from my own well sunk in my plot

that i, with my own hands, proudly dug

now i think of King Coconuts i planted

watered, and carefully cared

from assaults of those crawly beetle

attacking palms, my babies thrived so well

and of these assets i constantly muse

day dreaming of this past slog

i, at the end, exchanged for a nose stud

causing, within, much anger of the loss

© henry victor     14.02.2003