T wo C andles
ERNEST DEMPSEY is a writer and editor currently residing in Oregon. He has authored four books and looks forward to restart working on his ďŹ rst novel. Dempsey is also a journalist, blogger, and book reviewer. He edits the quarterly journal Recovering the Self published from Ann Arbor, MI, by the Loving Healing Press. He is vegetarian and an ardent advocate for human and animal rights. To learn more about Dempsey and his work, visit his website http://www.ernestdempsey.com/.
ERNEST DEMPSEY
Two Candles
Two Candles
Ernest Dempsey
Copyright Š 2013 by Ernest Dempsey. ISBN: 978-1-61456-131-6 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book was printed in the United States of America.
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For my brother and friend, Shais
Contents Preface............................................................................................ 11 A Challenge................................................................................... 13 A Leaf on the Tree........................................................................ 14 A Post-War Village....................................................................... 15 A Tale of Heavens......................................................................... 16 A Way of Peace.............................................................................. 17 Age 18 An Immortal Candle................................................................... 19 Apart From Words....................................................................... 20 Arboreal......................................................................................... 21 Art and Success............................................................................. 22 Authority....................................................................................... 23 Bandying?...................................................................................... 24 Black Text...................................................................................... 26 Blasé................................................................................................ 27 Blood.............................................................................................. 28 Changing Colors.......................................................................... 29 Choices........................................................................................... 30 Civilization.................................................................................... 31 Confession..................................................................................... 32 Don’t You Dare Tread!................................................................ 33 Earning More................................................................................ 34 Elton and the Butterfly................................................................ 35 Evil’s Father................................................................................... 36
Eyes and Ears................................................................................ 37 Fears................................................................................................ 38 Floating Above Life..................................................................... 39 Genes.............................................................................................. 40 Hating the Villain in Disguise.................................................... 41 I Can’t Live Without . . ............................................................... 43 I Envy the Flakes.......................................................................... 44 Living to the Lees......................................................................... 45 Logic and Myth............................................................................ 46 Marriage Reconsidered............................................................... 47 Me, Not-Me................................................................................... 48 Men and Women.......................................................................... 49 My Youth....................................................................................... 50 Night Sky....................................................................................... 51 No Distance Whatsoever........................................................... 52 Owning and Belonging............................................................... 53 Poetry in the New Millennium.................................................. 54 Resistance...................................................................................... 55 Sanity.............................................................................................. 56 Self-Chasing ‘I’.............................................................................. 57 Separation...................................................................................... 58 Speaking for Others..................................................................... 59 Stepping Out................................................................................. 60 Stories............................................................................................. 61 Survival........................................................................................... 62 Tether............................................................................................. 63 The Beggar’s Cap......................................................................... 64 The Beggar’s Soul......................................................................... 65 The Commitment of Light........................................................ 66 The Dark Corner.......................................................................... 67 The Demon of Doubt................................................................. 68 The Looking Glass....................................................................... 69 The Mystery of the Night........................................................... 70
The Square of Peace.................................................................... 71 The Stink....................................................................................... 72 The String...................................................................................... 73 The Turns of the Roads.............................................................. 74 The Wheel..................................................................................... 75 The Will to Live............................................................................ 76 Thinking and Death.................................................................... 77 Time................................................................................................ 78 Two Candles................................................................................. 79 Vision and Destiny....................................................................... 80 We Choose to Think................................................................... 81 When Music Escorts the Word................................................. 82 When My Heart Cracked........................................................... 83 While Light Guards Our Nap.................................................... 84 Winter............................................................................................. 85 Wishes............................................................................................ 86 You in ‘Now’.................................................................................. 87 Also by Ernest Dempsey............................................................. 89 About the Author......................................................................... 91
Preface When my first book of poetry Islands of Illusion came out, I thought of revising my passive indifference toward poetry. Poetic composition had been more a kind of muse on a surprise visit rather than an actively pursued mode of expression in writing. No more was verse a flash of emotional dissipation or an artistic epiphany. Against the poems in fits of hope or despair, a number of years ago (those that made my Islands of Illusion), I resolved to formulate thoughtful verse by making fancy and reason befriend each other at the venue of mind. This was at once a thought and a feeling that evoked a strong appeal to put my thinking to work while retaining the pleasure of rhythm. Almost daily at night, I’d switch off the electric light and then light two candles at my bedside, reproducing a kind of classical setting for preserving the thought of the moment on paper. I must admit that this daily practice with verse brought an enjoyment yet unsurpassed in my writing life. Throughout the course of creating these poems, and unlike the poems in Islands of Illusion, I always remained the ‘sane’ and ‘safe’ thinker who was in perfect control of his mood, mind, and will to write. Those were moments for me to consider ‘universals’– observations and questions that are not confined to the existing moment or current time. I hoped that by remaining ‘in control’ I 11
Ernest Dempsey
did not deprive my lines of the spontaneity that makes the beauty of poetry. To make sure I didn’t bump into tumidity or pretense of authority, I preferred to ask questions in many of the poems that follow here, instead of weaving logical explanations for a particular phenomenon. My questions, though, come without the sign of interrogation; not that I have something personal against the symbol, but simply because I chose to count on the imagination of my readers to place any symbols at its own discretion. At times, my imagination would use its virtual wings to bring the idea of a story that illustrated a concept or explored a certain aspect of it. Some of these poems may sound like carrying a moral purpose, but, as far as I remember, I did not write with a clear moral purpose, unless of course morality circumscribes any attempt of reflecting over the motifs of conscious existence in the light of two candles at one’s bedside. Still, I have no reservations in regarding these poems as tacitly serving a good purpose since they do have the potential to make us see things in a new light—a quality capable of bringing about a positive change. Ernest Dempsey
12
A Challenge Pages of primordial life Carved in solid rock as sundry images Not text Unlock the latent vault of curiosity The written word can safely be omitted Upon some deeper contemplation You may soon realize How helplessly we rest upon the ink Though subtly For words can carry one’s essence intact Still having some doubts? Put this paper aside And try to convey a single thought to all Without using any form of writing Can you?
13
A Leaf on the Tree Winds blew A leaf on the tree swayed I groped for your heart in diffidence Fierce gusts shook the tree My heart bled by unseen wounds The darkness lasted over years Spring came and brought new light Health and hope of freedom came along Cheerful music set the scene for dance A leaf on the tree swayed
14
A Post-War Village Empty houses and abandoned space Stand in peace after all the ruin The men at war inflicted on the place Instincts gone awry are to blame For the human form is but a mere idol While reason could not help, being so tame As the battle spoiled food and water Both sides stopped destroying and moved on Seeking some habitable place of shelter The village left behind stands relieved Though wondering over the blindness of aggression A scene eyes would never have believed New groups of people one day may arrive Descendents of doves, worshippers of peace Hope conveys that life will then thrive
15
A Tale of Heavens Living on earth is natural not divine Hearts can beat without reason Breathing seldom needs an argument Morals spring out from the genes Life is purely human business But then we have a creepy monster Popularly known as death It puts an end to life’s tale Scaring and enraging us How we hate the end of lovely tales! So let the mind come into play For weaving clever stories Allowing life after death Though man’s control is now compromised His mind letting in a tale of heavens
16
A Way of Peace No more than a hint one needs For weaving a private universe A place where one can rule as God While shutting His chaos out of it Creating is but not enough Ordaining peace makes a noble Lord Man nor God alone can bring this wonder Though Man in God and God in Man may work Perhaps a better way of peace exists Let’s wash all labels off all living beings And take away all mirrors from the world Let’s make all things see themselves in the others
17
Age People might well wonder at your look that Somehow let go the hand of time Giving you a youthful sanguine face Frequently attested by the mirror Now keeping all the compliments aside Look into the mirror, fix your eyes These two tell-tale windows of the soul See if they look younger than their age Awe and wonder may possess your being While you may see antiquity in your eyes Not the wrinkles of a single body But the blisters of humanity
18
An Immortal Candle Walking the rut of darkness In a moment of time My eyes were dazzled Unknowingly I had covered an interminable stretch Appearing inches away from an invisible hand Holding an immortal candle Its light touching lightly my heart Its flame burning me down to ashes Yet rising again from my remains I fly off to try my wings Carrying the light in my eyes
19
Apart From Words Curved lines of loosely-chosen order Speak to strangers through the veil of vagueness Some language lacking words Making sense, nevertheless, to those with clairvoyance The message, as it filters through, puts on A guise that the Greeks and Romans knew Calling, in perfect confidence, the watching eyes To break again with laws of man and gods No more to watch the warmth Prometheus brings Wave farewell to borrowed faith and worn-out tradition Speak daringly to one’s shivering homunculus Some language lacking words
20
Arboreal Out in the open, I wandered Breathing on the green, in a soothing rhythm The air kissing me to welcome there Alert I became with some unnatural sound My sight spotted one of my kind A bipedal chimp-like moving form Holding a chainsaw to a tall tree Bent on felling that artifact of nature My heart would not allow such excess I wished we could go back a million years Regaining our skill and strength to climb To rush up trees and live upon its branches No need would then arise for a saw Nor us to have the tree felled to our use We could live up there gladly with some birds Instead of burning it to mar the air
21
Art and Success Like hunger satiated and love returned Art seldom dies at the door of success Each respite is but only a breath Drawn in to nurture the yet-unborn life What thwarts the course of art is greed Arising out of one’s fear of age The craving to gather more and in less time Sells one’s creativity to tumidity The pen, brush, and colors are the same Yet success of the art one cannot claim
22
Authority Smiling in appeasement is often But a risky act For unchallenged advances do become Rules of conduct rather than exception Much like some long unquestioned myths Now which exist as sacred facts Little does late resistance help Untie the noxious knot of mastery It’s time you shake your head just once Or else keep it ducked till another life
23
Bandying? You wake up to the morning Remembering what needs to be dealt with at the desk The personas of people Ready to dash down your defenses Along the road these beggars and the dregs Watching you through your hard-won three-piece suit The hunks of slaughtered animals in meat-shops Bring images of their bleeding throats to your eyes The honking of cars tailgates your hearing You pace up to arrive in your room Giving your worked-out being to sleep The only shelter free-of-cost available Deep in dream, you are still alive Breathing with effort, heavy with the day Your anger no more keeps its tether Hurling blood up your heart and head The slaughtered helpless animals are screaming Their blood more scarlet and a little denser Along the road, the beggars laugh at you You know that they know all about your suit
24
Against the looming figures of your past You have become a dwarf Apprehensive for being run over Under their giant feet and colossal shoes No noise hurts your ears but you hear A single, thumping heart, up in your temples Some horrible calamity feels close You wake up with a sigh to the morning Relieved to see you can return to office
25
Black Text The darkness in my life Creates the meanings of existence Just as a text comes into being From black ink on a white page The fluid turns of sentiments Play colorfully on the canvas of heart No different from the rainbow hues Adorning the plain blue sky A train that fails to stop in time Misses its destination Same place death holds in our lives Though without invitation
26
BlasÊ The altered taste of a feverish palate Or moving warmth in an icy wind Prove no less weird than a baseball player Who looks for style and new turns But glad no more with a mere win Perhaps all need is the need to shift Necessities so truly rare Some titles must be kept unchanged The rest being no one’s care
27
Blood Since antiquity, the red elixir of life has remained Faithful to its vital paths inside No matter how much it was forced out By man and beast alike For land, a mate, and at times for nothing Blood has been spilt with hair-raising recklessness With little regard for its sanctity More caution has been taken by artists In using their paint of the same hue Yet our selfless fluid keeps its flow Unceasing even in the veins of those Who squander it away in cruelty Not apt to shudder at their ignorance But using blood to shed it in each blow
28
Changing Colors Was it Adam or some ancient hominid The first human male who knew manliness? He may have lived in quiet peace until Beaten somehow by a female figure The egoistic race for power started Pushing him to be the ruling male And women, one of the trophies for the racer, Shrank in awe within herself Changing only costumes on her body Dresses with seven vibrant colors At length, the rainbow showed up in the vista Girls and guys, women and men Stepping into each other’s shoes The stillness of the frigid ideals Began to thaw under the heat of change New fears have though arisen since Uncertainty still rules the human race Dividing it under still more labels My eyes are looking up at the horizon In hope of seeing a shifting play of colors
29
Choices Played on the single string of emotion Joy and grief are but different melodies Yet opposite entirely in effect Varying with the manner of the player In life’s course, you are your own player A bit of circumspection in your choices Engenders great delight and prosperity Or else, just flings you into ruin’s lair
30
Civilization Wild and tolerant of harsh nature A feral child can live in the open Not needing any praise nor any bills His instincts remain undressed as his body Existence in the open is indifferent To chains of social norms and fake desires Once in the wild grip of civilization The human child learns to follow values Abstractions so astutely drawn for him Seizing his instinctual self-trust For a safer cage of urban comfort Where nodding in a company of friends Brings undeserved rewards to one’s doorstep Where speaking and believing rather different Leaves one alone, dying homeless on the road
31
Confession Over the green and colored vegetation Settles a gray and heavy cloud of smoke The human product of neglect or ignorance Creating a scene aching to the eyes Some hands invert a dustbin full of garbage Right along the side of the road Cutting short their labor, harming others With foul smell and possible contagion Red-handed I catch them off and on Yet hardly do I try to explain The hazards of polluting public breath For fear of attempting just in vain
32
Don’t You Dare Tread! You there? Don’t move a tad! Check your legs and let your blood chill Look at the growing dark shadows How very indifferent they seem to grow As if they don’t fear treading a living form No matter how softly How silently and completely They crush it without altering its form Similar to a silent killer who kills but Makes no mess Now you sense the threat Lurking in each move of innocence Don’t you dare tread these melting grounds! Stay where you are and be still Try to be a statue in the air Standing in place with eyes closed
33
Earning More One knows for sure Living in the third millennium on planet earth How central to existence is to earn The modern Homo sapiens need money More and more of it So earn they must this money Earn more and more but never learn The fact of crippling rottenness Eating the insides of their kind The race of business, bills, and bank accounts Runs circular without any end At center stays the god of carnal comfort Shut out is the sin of empathy
34
Elton and the Butterfly Curious little Elton, in his play Spotted a caterpillar on the green The soft crawling of the creature Won all the kid’s attention The child followed the creature’s every move From plant to plant and land to land One evening, somewhere far from home, Elton found the caterpillar still Sticking to a green twig on a plant As if settled down for some rest So rest our young hero took as well Both lying in oblivion for some time Upon waking, the kid had then his eyes On a fleshy capsule about to open And from inside emerged a real beauty His eyes were dazzled and his mind baffled Whence came the butterfly with colored wings? What happened to the crawling caterpillar? Enjoying the pretty butterfly’s flight Elton chanced to see himself in water In a pond over which the insect flew Glad at first to see he hadn’t changed Elton wished for such a transformation To give him pretty colored wings to fly 35
Evil’s Father Searching for the mother of all evils My faculty of thinking Stumbled upon the doorstep of a man Looking haggard and uncouth ‘You care for ridding mankind of all evil?’ Asked he, showing contempt ‘In patriarchal systems, seek the man!’ His voice felt like a deadly dagger Pointed at women Upon my seeking pardon, he said with a smile, ‘What good if you strangle evil’s mother? Can’t evil’s father impregnate another?’
36
Eyes and Ears So useless are these eyes in a sense Unable to show one’s own visage Except by involving a reflection (an illusion) While ears pick one’s voice readily Despotic eyes hide us from our vision Making others the objects of our desire Is not the set of eyes humiliating? But listen to the sound of your voice The ever-active eyes guard our being From foes outside and from those within The pleasure that brings peace comes through these channels Where music and the word are always welcome
37
Fears Budding fear In the heart of a young lover is Innocent and tender Dissipating at the sight of beloved Behold the dread of prisoners Having lost their freedom To the ghostly walls of cruel space While the world is rid of their ringing threat Still darker comes The terror in the hearts of sleepless mothers Waiting and praying To see their sons return unharmed from wars Mark the base concern Seizing the hearts of crooked politicians Leaving them blind To all fears but that of losing hold
38
Floating Above Life Back and forth in my daily life Off to work and back to bed Living through a replay of the seasons My calcified self can still feel The hands that rocked my cradle Back and forth it swung Rhythmically Its music of movement played on air Permeated all my layers As life’s welts now strike them down One after the other My crouching spirits of a neonate Look for the guardian presence The figure by the cradle, to create once more The rhythm and the music by movement Carrying me away, up and afloat High above the throes of living
39
Genes The selfish gene does dominate Causing men to mate with women Making sure to live through their kids Young ones who will care for the old Fears of age and perishing are quelled Then we have these same-sex couples Not caring for the lack of progeny Just making sure the joy of company The fear of age is ruling over genes While perishing for good is no concern Consider those living in seclusion Given to some art or reveries All fears they ward off with some pretence Their genes may want selfish self-destruction Or is it that they know a different language?
40
Hating the Villain in Disguise Having heard my trusted pal Telling me the truth about a pervert Whose get up appears swanky and quite sleek Though from within he is evil to his core I’m glad to know the flip side of him But poking at my mind is the question Should I hate the villain in disguise? For one thing, my friend may have heard wrong Or I may even doubt his memory He might well have been misled by others Who may owe the accused a personal grudge But if all I heard is really true Should I hate the villain in disguise? I have been led to see an ugly figure Masked by a persona of affection Still he has never done me any wrong Or even never thought of doing so Yet he has harmed my fellow human beings For money, he has ruined several lives Should I hate the villain in disguise?
41
Humanity requires he be punished Put to pain as he has done to others But then we have the notions of forgiveness The teachings of love for our enemies For he may even have suffered himself His wounds may be far deeper than his victims Should I hate the villain in disguise? I feel like hating him for all his wrongs But then I ask myself a thoughtful question Will hating him do me or others good? If I could gently make him repent And be his guide to a noble life Perhaps I will not need to ask myself again ‘Should I hate the villain in disguise?’
42
I Can’t Live Without . . . Sweet one, How often I used to think in secret, That I cannot live without you! My mind never nodded to the fact That you were not, and could not be, my mate The dread of somehow parting with you stalked My peace in company and in solitude I was self-christened with a single line ‘I Can’t Live Without You’ It was the line synonymous with life And yet when time brought us both together I felt that love was just a binding strap No different from the one that ties beasts Keeping them from the instinct of their freedom My instinct for love didn’t shake a tad But only it revised its utterance ‘I Can’t Live Without You’ was no more there I heard my heartbeat crying more emphatically ‘I Can’t Live Without Freedom’
43
I Envy the Flakes Each passing year The parasitic winter bounces back Stealthily riding the stillness of fall Claiming the lively verdure of the grass My own being shrinking from the cold The skin of my body forming flakes Peeling off me as something not my own Life vanishes in bits As I watch the rain and sleet Caging me in walls, usurping the open Praying on my chances to connect I envy those tiny little flakes The specks that quickly leave my body Feeling no regrets Free to mingle in the open vastness No looking back, no sighs!
44
Living to the Lees Used to seeing in bright light Eyes go blind for a jiffy When darkness seizes the scene at once Coming athwart to ease and safety But soon returns to eyes their honor As they start seeing without light The rule of darkness is never complete Most fears and aversions can be beaten It’s common to have nights after days But rarely the sunset makes us blind Some light lingers when the sun is down While starts rise anon to guide travelers Death even does not end all life For one is always loved in memories Let’s not abort the sweetness of existence But live it fully down to the lees
45
Logic and Myth Wee as my mind was, each story I heard My heart leapt up with every turn in it What something, or a person, said and did Filled my curiosity with wonder How lovingly I found myself in every tale! Since time has transformed my shape and thought The sweet alacrity of trusting tales is gone My stories now follow a different route The spoken word sounds just like some deception My inquisitive mind starves for proof A set of thought-out sentences are needed Spoken in conjunction with rhetoric For quelling my inkling to distrust My once beloved stories and traditions How sad I’m not yet there in the maze of logic!
46
Marriage Reconsidered Tame with fever, cold, and having chills You lie alone in your rented room Missing your parents and your sibs People who always got you across such moments Brooding, now leniently, on staying single Marriage seems the practical solution Ensuring care and social acceptance A mate would make you feel strong and safe While promising to pass on your being In bits to younger ones from your loins But then the thought may visit your mind Of living as a burden on your mate Infesting her with worries and disease When you were not the one to give her care As she suffered the harshness of this life So selfish motives must be kept aside Counting on true love as the key True love whose roots go deeper than your needs A feeling not confined to a body But one that beautifies all your thoughts Thus, coming out of the feverish night You better listen closely to your beat See if you both agree over a wife Or on just living your single life 47
Me, Not-Me The sameness of being me Being the very me Flings some part of mine out of me My torn apart bit of self Flashes past the bounds of normalcy Silently, without invoking the social demons, Cleanses me of all dismay For a moment, I am not the same stale self But everything that I come across Everything that comes across me Ranging from invisible to the awesome and overwhelming I lose myself to the non-me Yet, in some treacherous depth of my new self I know that I am the same me The one that I truly am But do not want to be
48
Men and Women Feel the angst behind her quivering lips Don’t you think it’s real? Real as the earth, not fabricated. Little sense it makes to conclude that woman comes inferior to man, Hence her existence is but man’s half. Ages of silence and dependence has turned women into men-in-women’s guise, living to patriarchal ideals. The true woman has been, perhaps, long lost, that is, if she at all existed. But something in the men-in-women’s guise keeps their lips quivering, the guise of the woman must be having some undiscovered mystery of identity.
49
My Youth Strange though it might sound I cannot find the twenty five years Carrying my youth My earliest age, before now, seems to be When I was fourteen Then I read my current age Shown by the calendar It tells me I am nearly forty A leap from childhood to middle age! Where is my youth, I wonder? No question of asking people Or else be labeled insane I just keep pressing on my mind For tracking my unlived youth
50
Night Sky Graying hair and a parting power of will Together settle on our conceit Like a gray pall clouding a clear sight Still, we don’t lose the reason to rejoice The darkening of our lofty ideals For is the night sky not more charming, With all its luminaries glowing bright? Let’s welcome then the shadows of our night To move each eye with their splendid shine Letting them picture us as stars
51
No Distance Whatsoever Like the full moon in a winter night I feel you close While knowing the insurmountable distance Parting us for good A layman cannot reach the moon in body Those who do get there, lose its beauty The distance between us therefore May not be so tyrannical after all Letting your charm live its life Keeping my passion ever afloat
52
Owning and Belonging ‘You can buy anything,’ I’m told, ‘As long as you can pay the price.’ How true! I surely can buy all Paying the price is all I need Gold, gems, scrumptious clothes and food Even animals and humans I can buy Still, I have my doubts Does buying make a thing my own? Or is it a self-deceiving game? Property that passes from hand to hand How can it all belong to me for good When I am more perishable than it? Little do I feel like owning things Instead, I care more to get connected Get the ultimate belongingness to those Who live in me and through whom I live
53
Poetry in the New Millennium In awe I stand of space travels Spellbound by virtual reality Wondering at the marvelous fact of cloning Still thinking whether all is worth a dime Breathing in a world of innovation Fearing a nuclear holocaust While religion and politics are looming Being honest feels almost like a crime As many die homeless and of hunger My apprehensions rush to hunt my peace In self-defense, I take a pen and paper And scribble down another silly rhyme
54
Resistance Next time when things mess up Try bit of nonchalance See if showing your back to the blind winds Makes its currents revise their roads Better not negotiate Carry on inside a bubble of indifference Let the uncanny flame feel a cold screen And all the uproar fall on a deaf ear If you could make a difference to the world Perhaps a prize will come your way In case things got no better off You’ll learn at least the art of bubble-making
55
Sanity Different from a tennis ball, which can’t Rest between two steps at once but must Lie on either of them, The mind is so often occupied By forces contradictory in their nature Caught between desire and abstention Denial and acceptance Decision and avoidance Hope and despair Our core of thought and emotion Propels its teetering course of function On the ever-fleeing current of sanity
56
Self-Chasing ‘I’ Reaching out to other hearts is hard Not easy enough to actualize Across the thwarting barrier of identities Me and people, Us and Them Yet harder still is myself to cross The mysterious division inside me One that allows an unwieldy passion Aspiring to connect with all that is Not me Calling my waking self to write in the dark While goading my fears to a corner I try to get hold of this arcane presence But I fail every time I try Knowing it is there I quell my beaten wits with the assurance It’s me, it’s me, it’s me . . .
57
Separation We came together to a stream She pressed my hand to stop Pitying her diffidence in secret I glanced at her for mustering up some heart Her grasp loosened at once, our hands parted As I crossed the stream, she stood still Petrified as a living statue Staring at me with a pair of strained eyes I stretched my arm to help her come to my side Her eyes changed their color Blue clarity converting to gray doubt No time air took in carrying ripples Suspicion and distrust chaining my heart Dropping my hand, I fixed her figure Appearing so self-contained and cold Her touch on my hand began to fade Taking away all my strength and spirits We stood like dead sketches carved in stone The gushing stream still dancing in indifference
58
Speaking for Others They set the table Per official decorum Two or more sides to present Cases of countless living forms Reduced to just a few sets of organs A human tongue and a human brain Speaking for others, called ‘their kind’ To wonder and perplex the skeptic mind One cannot help observing their sameness The body, speech, and gestures of their faces Communicating like a single person But in different outfits What possibly is there that divides Except the intervening table’s sides?
59
Stepping Out We can, if we want to, step inside Some unknown place lacking any labels Or step out of our umbrella’s shelter Letting raindrops run down our skin Perhaps in a scorching summer noon We dare hold our face up to the fireball Or take a short walk in an icy evening Shivering and yet thinking of the snow Even in the lack of company A sudden laughter may come to us on the road Or just a word intentionally misspelled May break the spell of predictability
60
Stories Back in their childhood, they believed Stories told to them by their elders True and so inspiring to their spirits Hardly could they suspect those as myths Gradually, as they lived through the years Reality pervaded their tastes Each day became a hackneyed rehearsal Life became at best a trite tale Today they seek some kind of proportion Keeping the ‘reality of life’ Or else their existence may become The nonbeliever’s long-denied God
61
Survival A room inside the frozen building Shelters a meekly-lit gas heater Its partly glowing coil gives off heat Behind the shut door and closed windows Winter is thus largely kept outside Inside the room, lies a lean figure in a bed Under a blanket and a quilt combined So as to stay as warm as he would get Dressed fully with a sweater and socks on He gives his body’s heat no chance to flee The warmth held captive in the body Fuels the nerd’s heartbeat and his breathing An anxious nerve is thereby quelled Some sparks inside the skull go on recurring A chain of thought is heated not to perish
62
Tether Tied to a post, I spot, A beast with childish eyes Beneath the hairy skin, some fluids circulate Inside a frame of flesh and bones How simple is the concept we call ‘life’! I look at myself and at others of my kind Little different is our build The same connection of fluids and flesh Sires our breath as of the beast Even we are tied to some place The difference, nevertheless, is enormous Lacking our trust in its instinct Keeps the beast from making us its prey Granting ourselves the trust instead Leaves us free to machinate and slay
63
The Beggar’s Cap Divided between work and aspirations I hold together fragments of my self Using that magical word ‘I’ Or else my existence is no different From what I see in the beggar’s cap Old coins thrown in, lacking any order
64
The Beggar’s Soul Remember that old story of an angel? She chanced to fall in love with a man here An old fellow with a puckered face Living out homeless on the street Playing a little worm-eaten harp Thus gathering a few coins for his meals One night a visiting angel heard his note A plaintive song but masked in strokes of joy The angel’s heart was melted and there she cried Somewhere her soul was one with the beggar’s Invisibly she sat by his side Indifferent to the weather as he was Not conscious of the people’s apathy All striding past the old man, paying no heed With his notes, she let her voice float Most heart touching was their melody He was lost in her unseen company One night the old beggar became ill The angel sang alone to get him food But few were there due to nippy weather She flew about in her agony But no good was her unseen little being Returning to the beggar she descried A body lying dead on the roadside Her heart was rent, she cried out in pain And to her wonder, someone sang to her So here was the beggar’s soul she loved He now had great wings like her own Together they flew all about the world Singing and in love with their music Before they settled down at his grave And sang to cheer up the wounded souls 65
The Commitment of Light Quiet and rich they stand The candles by my bedside Self-contained, still ready to illumine The scene in my room for me to write How closely does the written word Depend on their light! While they, in their giving way, Surpass our own commitment. By making them my bedside friends I hope to live to see the day When my own spirit will melt away Becoming someone’s sight
66
The Dark Corner Lights are on, and yet Dark corners lie sleeping in neglect Faces sharing joy look great, though Hearts don’t let the worries out Music nourishing souls, but also Getting on nerves and rending ears My house tonight is witness to Celebration of a worldly sort I feel left out, while standing in The midst of the festivity By chance, or by some inner urge I hear the darkness calling me Slowly and in a stealthy way Tucking a candle in my pocket I leave the crazy bustle Walking by unexplained intuition to A dark, very dark, corner of my house I light the candle there, and sit by its side Looking at it, bathing in its new light
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The Demon of Doubt Without knocking, enters my peace The sometimes-friendly demon of doubt ‘Look,’ I hear his heavy whisper ‘What you see and believe is unreal Come out of your slough and look around.’ I sometimes follow what the demon says Arriving each time in a different land Where I often get astray and anxious To keep the demon of doubt from mischief I do not kick him out of my head Instead, I make room for him in there To let his stay last longer He doubts his own intimations Making me revise constantly Hence keeping myself from leaving me
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The Looking Glass Selfless as it hangs in my room The looking glass is the object of my envy How smoothly it slips out of attention Creating me, so perfectly, in my own image By checking my senses with my replica It poses an unbreakable defense I wonder if some day in the future I could myself become a looking glass Showing the world its face in my word Charming it to see all its beauty
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The Mystery of the Night Lighting a candle in the dark Creates a mystery The objects in my shadowy room All seem to whisper a silent language My own existence alters Dividing into me and my looming shadow We all have our own stories to tell Stories that, at length, become a single tale Observing the code of silence We speak together with no utterances My shadow listens curiously As if a child listening to a bedtime story The mystery of the shadow and the light Makes my life a story in progress
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The Square of Peace Though required at my desk I walk outside, pacing the road Flitting across an ocean of dust and smoke Past the stinky heaps Striding against crowds and commotions I find myself vis-à -vis the square Where beauty had once charmed my spirits Standing at my love’s cradle My racing beat quells slowly Calm and rhythmic Like a piece of light music
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The Stink Contrary to the penurious dregs We mediocre folk have learnt some class Though money rules our lives all the same Our meals and clothes come finer They beg and flatter us with their prayers While we do every bit to please the upper hand The stink of poverty we cannot lump Just as a rose would shrink from a skunk Young kids begging now in dirty rags Become the hands that serve us in hotels Where we put on fake smiles for our lords And in those perfect halls of luxury With all the classes smiling pleasantly Nothing stinks but the rotten hypocrisy
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The String Far from the stretch by the rill Water gurgles in my ears Its sound is inviting Throwing an invisible string around me Like a god offering me a chance to gain I let myself be drawn My steps tread the distance in confusion Vaguely guided by clairvoyance Soon I’m there, on the rill’s green bank The string pulls me closer to the current Down I go on my knees Closer to the soft and peaceful flow Looking at my figure, as if in a mirror I can’t help seeing the wonder The flow of the rill exhibits As the string holds me in place The never-ceasing passage of the water Shows my still image on its screen Yet no distortion of my peeking self Am I there inside every drop? While I ponder nature’s magical mirror Something quietly leaves me by the rill Only later will I know it was the string 73
The Turns of the Roads Fair for us to take pride in our pace Our stamina that conquers miles on miles Human mettle does deserve applause Yet I doubt that we could persist By the sinews of our heart and legs If the road we tread had not those turns Making to the view a shorter distance For does each turn not give us greater hope Of reaching one end and starting afresh? How long to senses would the way appear If it had no turns, no breaks, no bends? Would we still persist, or even dare?
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The Wheel Ninety degrees forward Turns the wheel of life Passion, joy, vehemence, heartbreaking Ending of a living dream One eighty degrees forward Confronting one’s nativity Denial, rage, betrayal, angst Life a half-lived dream Two seventy degrees forward Looking to settling down Fatigue, acceptance, compromise Life a dying dream Three sixty degrees covered Stops the wheel of life Stillness, peace, oblivion Ending of an unlived dream
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The Will to Live Bound helplessly to earthly flesh and blood Poor breath is life’s guarded inmate Only by its faithful return, one lives Though breath thus too inhabits a snug place The case of love and ardor is the same Hard it is to hold them in for ever Lest the fragile heart is torn asunder Letting them recur keeps life going One entity, however, must be kept From leaving the bounds of one’s living self For what we have known as the ‘will to live’ Shall take all life out on departure
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Thinking and Death Not thinking of your life’s end Or having the somber thought suppressed When death claims you unguarded Reason accepts ‘an accident’ In zealous youth, you fight a war Thinking of your country or creed The enemy’s blow quenches your flame Your side awards you ‘martyrdom’ Living a lonely life on the fringe You guard your dreams against authority Falling off the misery’s edge, you end Someone whispers ‘suicide’ at your funeral Lying old, gray, and ill on a bed Thinking of the unstoppable doom Your breath leaves you slowly but for good The family doctor announces the ‘expiration’
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Time Dreaming, or in fancy probably My eyes open in a sunlit room Filled with lumber and so many clocks None of them, though, ticking Each stopped and showing one moment in time No two clocks in the room Agree on the current moment No movement in a single hand All quiet and still inside and out The universe devoid of motion My eyes watch the scene without blinking Air no more feeding my breath A single thought lives its monotony ‘What time do I see?’—‘What time do I see?’ For long, I feel my quest unanswerable Except the clock of thought Ticking steadily in me
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Two Candles Not one tonight Instead, I light two candles More light in my lonely and dark room Comes from their burning flames Yet, something is more precious than my reading The beauty of the pair Together, flame to flame, they seem to live Contrary to my solitude My spirits feel like melting by their file So, even when the power is resumed I let them burn together, for a while
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Vision and Destiny On bright sunlit days With little or no fog in the air A young traveler does not face a snag Causing him to miss his destination Clarity of thought and devotion Play a similar role in his life Combined with knowledge and persistence They escort him to the door of success Still, something precious slips off his way As he gets not a chance to let himself Be carried away by clairvoyance Towards an undiscovered destiny His vision when baffled by the fog May lead his feet to reach another time Where life is more beautiful and free And where man can live without crime
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We Choose to Think Stepping back in time is not real Or so we choose to think From babyhood to grave The cycle of life is complete How come the time flows and won’t repeat? Our bodies, once destroyed, don’t return Or so we choose to think The body becomes dust But soul, we say, lives on beyond the grave Are we confusing humans with a wave? The greatest good is pleasing our Lord Or so we choose to think We represent his image Yet we exploit, kill, rape, and destroy Is this divine image just a lie? Today the world rests on the base of business Or so we choose to think Money is our aim Wealth we think will make our race thrive Though I wonder if we will survive!
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When Music Escorts the Word Ready for making a great difference? Take your pen and paper, and pen down Some pleasing passage or a nice tale Or better yet, a soft melodious poem One that pleases while infusing love Radiating selfless inspiration Remember though that every word of yours Needs to pass the trial of ambiguity The barriers of distrust and fideism Before it touches any heart and soul To help each word pass safely across Inscribe it first on your private heart Then let the music of your beat escort Your words in bringing lasting joy to all
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When My Heart Cracked Walking back past supper to my place I scuttled amid the row of fancy cars My thoughts absorbed in a reverie A human child crashed at my feet Alert and startled, I came to a halt Nearly angry at my inattention ‘Please, please . . . ‘ mumbled the little, haggard figure Seeing so young a child begging me Shame, pity, and confusion took me in How could he do this to me when I was no better but for some petty bills, Carried in my worn-out wallet? ‘Okay, okay, . . . ‘ I patted and consoled him Giving him his share of the moola Happy as I was and walked ahead A crack in my heart began to ask How could we do this to a human child?
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While Light Guards Our Nap Time to soothe our anxious spirits Let’s celebrate our presence Of fabulous things, of myths and dreams Being able to read and write Creates an air of ease Allowing a parting of the lips Breaking the frigidity We are about to breathe in peace Our eyes closing to sleep in darkness While light guards our nap
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Winter It happened, or maybe was a dream, My memory won’t bother to determine The image, however, still remains Lit on the canvas of my perception I see an open space Many people walking out there All of them heavily clothed and keeping warm The bright sun was shining overhead But still a nippy day was in my view Perhaps the wind was icy Or why else would people not perspire With heaps of wool and leather on Then suddenly all stopped All faces turned to watch A young man in a skimpy outfit Walking with a self-absorbed indifference Bearing no signs of mid-winter No covering for his body but a shirt Over an old pair of blue jeans Yet treading his path with enviable warmth My memory could not hang in any longer But I could see the breaking of the stillness Some people looking seriously confused While others starting to untie buttons 85
Wishes Generous fancy once made me The master of a nice jinni Asking me to make a wish A single wish that will be entertained Time allotted was half an hour My being was deluged at once Wishes came in wild torrents Each wish an irresistible charm Pulling me hard to its side But others claiming their own force My jinni told me it was time I stood yet indecisive Uttering in a helpless tone ‘I wish I could have only one’ And there it went my wish ‘I’m sorry,’ said the jinni, ‘But time’s up and your wish Sounds self-defeating.’ Saying that the jinni disappeared Leaving me with my wishes
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You in ‘Now’ Vain are any frantic fumbles at escape No use in prostrating in defeat Wisdom loathes the worship of agony Past is past and you exist in ‘now’ Luck is calling you for one more chance A pen and ink, paper, and the fire that illumines Your room, your mind, and your heart at once Let’s begin writing your free destiny
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Also by Ernest Dempsey Islands of Illusion (World Audience Publishers, New York, 2007) A collection of poems with an introduction by Esther Lombardi an afterword by poet M. Stefan Strozier. http://www.worldaudience.org/pubs_bks/pubs_bks_ Dempsey_Illusion.html
The Biting Age (World Audience Publishers, New York, 2006) Humorous/satirical stories that will enthrall, entertain, and excite the reader. http://www.worldaudience.org/pubs_bks/pubs_bks_ Dempsey_TBA.html
The Blue Fairy and Other Tales of Transcendence (Modern History Press, Ann Arbor, 2009) 89
Ernest Dempsey
A collection of short stories that explores the many sides to the subject of death—one that makes the final departure a meaningful reality of existence. http://www.amazon.com/ Fairy-other-tales-transcendence-Voices/dp/1932690921
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About the Author Ernest Dempsey is the pen name of Karim Khan—a writer, citizen journalist, and editor working at various international publications. He is an assistant editor at the Loving Healing Press of Michigan and the chief editor of its quarterly journal Recovering the Self—a journal of hope and healing (http://www.recoveringself.com/). He has worked works for a number of American papers, mainly based in Florida. Dempsey is vegetarian and active in defense of animal rights as well as human rights worldwide.
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T wo C andles
ERNEST DEMPSEY is a writer and editor currently residing in Oregon. He has authored four books and looks forward to restart working on his ďŹ rst novel. Dempsey is also a journalist, blogger, and book reviewer. He edits the quarterly journal Recovering the Self published from Ann Arbor, MI, by the Loving Healing Press. He is vegetarian and an ardent advocate for human and animal rights. To learn more about Dempsey and his work, visit his website http://www.ernestdempsey.com/.
ERNEST DEMPSEY