A thick new coat of paint
on these walls
takes away thoughts of the scourge,
a three storey apartment
dangles like a swing
between earth and sky
and a severe vertigo hits our heads in freefall
as we get up from our beds,
the room revolving all around us
like the solar system might,
on the command of a surreal axis;
all of it from just the medications and paranoia,
also the news updates by the millisecond.


I observe more,
my eyes binoculars now.
on a full moon night,
I think I saw Grim Reaper
all dressed up,
for his execution of salvation,
as doorbells rang
and Church bells tolled.
Aye, it was him alright,
only not in the form
I imagined him to be.
It was just him,
sprinkling grief like colours,
on the old uncle wearing black that day.
The poor man was mourning.

He is a widower now.
Does he know he is being watched by the bidding
hands of time ?
and his time of grief has now stretched till the midnight sky turns to poppy red,
at some ungainly hour when sleep wouldn’t
come with medication.
He has no one with him.
He is 75.


I am 25,
and the last supper I ate was with my own
groaning echoes,
all alone,
with my prayers before my meal
and God on my sore lips.

I keep the balcony door open,
who knows when some God may come visiting
as a guest?
One of the invisible ones came to me in my sleep
and said,
“Your friend has been left scot free from the hospice
and is back home
but your vain and cursing cousins still struggle,
with not a single word of grace for you,
who you still prayed for”


You know this month is like an unmarked grave,
waiting to obscure the replica of life we have lead.
So if we get up from our beds,
seeย a new leaf in the room,
by the open door
in the mornings,
take it as life without premonition.
Take it as the strong instincts you share with your mother.
Take it as a form of God who has come to your aid.
Take it as the voice of the child playing with his own replica on the walls and yet happy.

At last, take it as a call for life.
A call for prayer.
A call for the fact that we breathe
even as the dust of our century mingles with the air.


3 thoughts on “AWAKE

  1. Another beautiful poem, P.J. And your hauntingly poetic words, as ALWAYS, hit home with me after being in quarantine and now being FREE! ๐Ÿ™

    When I read the poem, I was immediately brought back to my acting role as Mr. Snelgrave in Naomi Wallace’s play, ONE FLEA SPARE. It was a play about a plague outside (sound familiar?) and these 4 (my spiritual number) people who were locked inside. I was a “beast of the highest order” in this role, that was a “beast” until they killed me near the end!

    BE AWAKE and BE AWARE (Streisand’s song) and, of course, “B”OTH! When we BE NOT AWAKE and we BE NOT AWARE (BOTH), we simply CANNOT make excuses for NOT BEing BOTH. We can’t say, “I didn’t know,” when we DID know. We can’t say, “it won’t be me,” when it MIGHT be “me.” Jesus has told us all about this BE AWAKE and BE AWARE (“B”OTH) in His Words, ” BE on guard! BE alert! You do not know when That Time will Come (Mark 13:33). Is That Time NOW? โ€œBut about That Day or Hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but ONLY The Father” (Matthew 24:36). But, I still ask, “is That Time NOW?” I hope you don’t mind me getting “B”iblical?

    And speaking of “‘B’iblical”….

    I am 25,
    and the last supper I ate was with my own
    groaning echoes,
    all alone,
    with my prayers before my meal
    and God on my sore lips.

    VERY “B”iblical with that “last supper” and very apropos for me, minus the age of 25, as I experienced this VERY THING while in quarantine and still experience it out of quarantine. “God on my sore lips” INDEED!!!!

    Another poem that catapults me to another Time and Place (BOTH) that only ONE “huckleberry friend,” P.J., could accomplish! I am SO honored to have YOU, P.J., as a fellow “huckleberry friend” writer!๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’š๐Ÿ’™

    Love and “B”lessings, your “huckleberry friend,”
    Timothy (Mr. T or Comrade T or “B”OTH) ๐Ÿ˜‰


    1. Thank you so much. I had written this few months ago and wrote it from the perspective of an universal consciousness. I am satisfied that it resonated with you.
      You always are my cheerleader so thank you for that, Comrade T.


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