A Straw Poem

In my spare times, I used to draw

My favorite would always be portraiture

Of faces I wish to remember

of teachers, friends and lovers.

In my busy times, I would still draw.

But lately...

whenever I put my pencil to paper

It turns into a straw

and the paper mellow to water

White and pure than never.

The more I gaze into it, the clearer is the color

It doesn’t ripple but begins to sparkle.

And, instead of me sucking for a drink

The water seems to expand at the brink

Rising like tides in the evening of the tsunami

Swallowing me into, instead of just water, now a sea

With my tongue and my hand
I taste the salt and the sand
Though my feet, I don’t know where they land.

I know it’s real. It is real.

And, the ocean breathes life to a figure

Who wears a face I used to draw

How I remember every curve and feature

Softer than flower, Stronger than power

Afar like history, Intimate like memory.

All at once, tears dance in the pool of my eyes

like skaters skidding at the ice rink,

instead of falling, I wink.

In a blink, it all gets to normal

I rub my hands against each other trying to unfeel the sand

I gaze to once water, now a paper

It is blank, perhaps forever.