Midas.
You recall the Greek Mythology of a King who found a God’s foster father, and in return of his kindness, allowed him one wish. And the only thing in his greedy little mind was, GOLD. should he ask for a lifetime of gold? no, better yet, everything he ever touched should turn to gold.
… and then the surgeon-to-be sat with the woman who was about to give birth, and talked to her, held her tummy to feel it move. what or how it happened, we have no clue, but rumour was it, she loved surgery too much it manifested in her patients. there is no real evidence for that, but there is no other hypothesis brought up.
one after the other, all she touched, like Midas, ended up being wheeled for surgery: Emergency Lower Segment Caesarean Section. Like Midas, what she thought was a thrill at first, ended up in grief, despair and plain frustration.
seems like a funny story, but i assure you, it is not. especially when you have a quota of vaginal deliveries to conduct and there is no way anyone you touch would fall through.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Mother’s Day Indeed.
Lay still, on my bosom and wait,
The time passed holds this moment gold,
For soon time would render it too late,
For soon, my dear, we would be old.
Close your eyes, and inhale such sweetness,
The beauty of knowing you are safe here,
Before we are robbed, for the sake of business,
In place of such bliss, only a falling tear.
In this frame captured I know I can hold you close,
Forsaking all else, for none else is required now,
As I’m inspired to write such a prose,
My hardened heart has now been plowed.
Three scores and still, my angel you have been,
Nothing more than ecstatical joy and immense bliss,
New experiences indeed but through what I’ve seen,
It would be an adventure, and what an adventure it is.
This Mother’s Day, I recognize that inasmuch, as I am appreciated as a Mother (thanks for the greetings and such people, it means so much. sorry though, i hadn’t the time to reply in person. anyways, public appreciation is better right :D), I appreciate BEING a mother. Knowing that there is my kind, and she is alive, growing, and filling my experiences daily, with new and beautiful thoughts. To hug and feel the beams of pride radiating as she says "Mom, I love you so much!" or laughing when she plays masak-masak and serves a bowl of "Chicken Pox". Or just basking in that love as we cuddle to sleep… I’m happy. I’m a Mom. And that is reason to celebrate. More than just gifts and flowers, this is the best for me.
Happy Mother’s Day to all.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)brightened morning, hold your peace today.
let this morning unfold after the night has swallowed me whole.
awaken me when i lay there, cold and untouched.
then neither your haunt nor your tingle would matter.
pretty morbid huh? just felt like writing some sickeningly real… what people in severe depression would feel… it seems weird to come from chirpy gene, but i see it happen all the time. and i guess it is something we need to pick up, and empathize with. medication isn’t the way most of the time. talk, and listen. pray for sense so you would know what to say, and when. could save someone’s life, without even knowing it. 
ouch.
pulling up layers and layers. i know it’s in here somewhere, just that i don’t remember it being so deep within. some layers, clearly distinguished, hold a firm covering. those however, are the ones easiest to pull out. the problematic ones, ah, the tricky ones. they slip and slide, but are so tough, that mere tugging and pulling would prove futile. those are the hidden, "undiagnosed" or missed ones. we never knew they were there. we never knew we needed them there. but they keep it safe. safe where no one can touch. but so safe sometimes i forget i have it. i can’t feel it, and lose touch of it. then slowly, as the layers peel themselves off as they do once awhile, you start to feel again. and all the previous trauma, insults and damages, start to become real. and then you bleed, in some places more than others, and some but bruises here and there. i guess this time, the haemorrhage seems a wee bit too much to be asymptomatic. so when blood flows, so does the brine of the body.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Fooled.
Cutting through layers of thick fibrous substances, revealed a soft, gelatinous blob. kinda like mushy mashed potatoes, or a half boiled egg overdone. when you really think about it, then you would really appreciate the thick blankets of padding.
right down underneath it all, that blob of jelly or whatnot, however, bleeds.
and it spurts. you know when doing surgery, the last thing you want is to hit a blood vessel. that would result in a mini blood fountain and everything gets soaked in the red warm fluid. in this case, however, the mushy piece of goo that bleeds spurts faster than can be stopped. and soon, that goo gets all drained. and there is just nothing left. the end.
bang on the door…
"who’s there?"
no reply.
"leave us alone."
footsteps leaving, a signal things have settled. or have they?
run off, run off and tell someone, tell someone what has happened. but wait, is this all worth it?
i want to, but what i want is not the ideal. i have settled for so little in the past, should my past dictate just how much i should hope for, and is there a difference between what i deserve and what i have received in the past?
i can’t just keep playing along with the tides, swept in and out by every breeze blowing this part of the coast.
make my ground.
"who’s there?"
Creak, and the door opens.
the door shuts, and the welcoming fire behind it crackles just a little louder, almost in glee.
short term, fired up, with the expectation of loss.