What If it’s the Way We Love?

What If it’s the Way We Love? is specially dedicated to all the people living with HIV/ AIDS (PLWHA) out there this yuletide season. Selected from a work in progress, “Stranger the Mirror of M y Life and Other Pieces”, I dared to ask all of us: what If it’s the Way We Love? in our quest to save humanity from itself. Or what do you think?

 

what if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

 

was just a thing?

 

A thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we love, sores of the way we make love,

treat love, desire love, the way we show and share love

the way we name love?

Just a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we push and test love,

the way we tempt love, open sores of the way we kill love

the way we forget love?

 

What if it is just that thing

seeping through the open sores

of the way we sell love,

compromise love, the way we treat love and shame love,

the way we touch love, sacrifice love

or sometimes,

a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we prove love

when between two

there are doubts.

Just the way we hold on to love

when it’s no more there,

the way we fight for love, stay for love

when love is lost.

The way we wait for love

when love is gone,

the way we live for love

when love is dead?

 

What if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

was just a thing?

 

What if it’s the way we love?

what if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

was just a thing?

 

A thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we love, sores of the way we make love,

treat love, desire love, the way we show and share love

the way we name love?

Just a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we push and test love,

the way we tempt love, open sores of the way we kill love

the way we forget love?

What if it is just that thing

seeping through the open sores

of the way we sell love,

compromise love, the way we treat love and shame love,

the way we touch love, sacrifice love

or sometimes,

a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we prove love

when between two

there are doubts.

Just the way we hold on to love

when it’s no more there,

the way we fight for love, stay for love

when love is lost.

The way we wait for love

when love is gone,

the way we live for love

when love is dead?

 

What if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

was just a thing?

 

What if it’s the way we love?

what if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

was just a thing?

 

A thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we love, sores of the way we make love,

treat love, desire love, the way we show and share love

the way we name love?

Just a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we push and test love,

the way we tempt love, open sores of the way we kill love

the way we forget love?

What if it is just that thing

seeping through the open sores

of the way we sell love,

compromise love, the way we treat love and shame love,

the way we touch love, sacrifice love

or sometimes,

a thing seeping through the open sores

of the way we prove love

when between two

there are doubts.

Just the way we hold on to love

when it’s no more there,

the way we fight for love, stay for love

when love is lost.

The way we wait for love

when love is gone,

the way we live for love

when love is dead?

 

What if this scourge

this pandemic, this plague

wiping out our race

from the face of earth

without a face

was just a thing?

 

What if it’s the way we love?

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A Conversation with AIDS on My Dying Bed

Especially for people living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA), an attempt is made here to capture the thoughts of an HIV/AIDS positive person, and how AIDS, as if human, responds to these thoughts in the second stanza. This is one of the poems in a work in progress, Stranger in the Mirror and Other Poems. I hope you have a good read and keep the comments coming!

A Conversation with AIDS on My Dying Bed

On my dying bed

Tear-filled eyes, feverish face seared with sores,

staring into space, traveling in time

mirrors of emptiness in the eyes, groans of regrets under my breath

pleasures of the past and pains of the present taunting the mind.

Emptiness, regrets, loneliness,

So endless

limitless and boundless like time and space.

Pain so deep inside like a stab in the heart!

All the life, all the love, all the treasures

Fading like a dream walking away from your sleep

Neither here, nor there; too slippery to hold

Chasing and chasing but never catching up, gasping for breath,

But never getting anywhere

Sweating in bed until you scream the nightmare out of your sleep:

“AIDS! Why me? Why me? Why me?!

I know you are in here

Right here in this ward watching me on my dying bed

Watching another victim say his last prayer.”

Victimisation is not of me,

I make victim of no man, a virus is what I am.

You are man, victim of man himself, not of my world

But of the world of man infected with viruses of vices and virulent prejudice

Walls of discrimination, arch of hate, wars without wisdom

Choices blinded by the narrow desires of man

Victim of man’s inhumanity to man

And this compass

from the point of progression

In this cycle of hunger for power, madness for money and sex

Returns to the point of termination –

Where no food on the table, no job for the man, no shelter for the mother,

no doctor for the sick child, no chance to dream between the pages

of a book for the girl-child, a life of strife

Poverty and diseases, third-world ambitions

of your rulers still ravaging the

world for more and more

This is your story, not mine

And the rest is history, and so you will.