Saga of the cursed woman

So its really heavy, sparkling dark, this container, I know its full of some mesmerizing fluid. I can smell the vapor seeping out through the loosely shut lid. I put my ear to its chest and hear sweet gurgling, and tiny silver bells tinkling in a cool breeze. I can't wait to open it and pour it completely over me.  Drinking, tasting and bathing in the liquids and the vapors and the licking the crystals at the bottom.

But its scary, and its forbidden. To do so. I have been warned. Again and again. Till I believe the same. But I'm so full of intrigue and curiosity that I try to lift it, only to find that its really heavy , like something bound in iron chains attached to a heavy anchor and thrown into the seabed. Among glowing jellyfish, colorful corals and swooping stingrays.

But I still lift it. Dragging my foot, one step at a time, careful not to spill a drop. Till I reach this shaded cove. I gingerly put it down, lest the black crystal vase and the glass lid be disturbed. Then I take ten deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling until my ribs ache from the effort. I bend close and twist the glass knob of the lid. A warmth sweeps over me. Spreading from the center of my chest, to my shoulders, neck and arms, my belly and back, through my spine, between my legs, and calves to toes. The throbbing of my heart increases till it hits a rhythm that pulsates, through the ground to come out as tiny waves in the sea. I reach this bursting point , at which everything explodes.

And slowly  within the next few seconds everything stills. A cold grey sensation travels from the tips of my toes to my navel, through my belly to my temple and leaves through the end of my fingers still clutching the glass knob.

But, alas! Its not glass anymore, I'm staring open mouthed at my stone fingers. Holding a spherical stone and a stony vessel. And no sound has escaped my lips since then. But I've heard this story, over and over again, repeated to every traveler that comes to see the sculpture of the cursed woman, in a cave, looking at her treasures.

 

A Highway Tree

I'm a tree on a highway
I do not cut myself
but those benign cars
a few fall off the road
and hit me instead

I'm a tree on a highway
I do not hit back.
Of those who fell off the road
curse and swear at length.
Maybe the road was not well made.

I'm a tree on a highway
I do not speak back,
but absorb all the gall
and wilt a little each day,
with dirt sprayed over my wounds.

I'm a tree on a highway
I'm a bit tough to pull down.
There are dents in my  trunk
but I still stand strong,
in a cruel crooked fashion.

I'm a tree on a highway
watching over, lonely carriers
and merry wholesale buyers,
over bulky trucks, spilling bucks
and teasing the line of death and life

I'm only a tree on a highway
leaning on my neighbors
peacefully stoic to revving engines.
for I've seen rougher roads
which only got wider.

Lose not Want Not

I see good
in the chasms of fear
and pits of misery
and now i've understood
that to see what's good
you've got to lose it
never to be found again

So smile while you're still happy
and laugh when you're funny
and share it when you have it
and take when you want it
coz it's late when its gone
never to be found again