Paper Boats

Folded carefully, the boat will float.
Resting on the water’s surface, the boat will become damp.
Soaking over time, the boat will sink.

Water rusts scissors. Water erodes rock. Water drowns paper.

Look around. The world has been carefully crafted and prudently packaged. We live in sand castles. We sculpt and shape our surroundings and then pat ourselves on the back, because our life span is a single grain compared to that of the earth, and we won’t live to see the tide come in.

Make a paper boat. Watch it bob up and down on the surface. Feel calm, maybe even pride. But be aware that the boat will be swallowed by a wave so soft that its foam will never grace the shore.

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Watercolours

‘Wow! Look at the stars,’ said the child at my side.

We were in a transparent marquee waiting for a concert to begin and white lights were flickering above our heads. They continued to flicker throughout the concert, but they weren’t stars. They were reflections from mobile phone screens.


 

Watercolours

I want to blur the lines between me and you,
the carefully crafted contours we’ve worked hard to create.
The wall we’ve built in our digital age
is a wedge that will age while you stand strong.
But in these seconds of solace while the sentinel is gone,
let me creep through the cracks to where I belong.

I want the freckles that cling to my nose to be dew drops.
I want birds to perch on my barky skin
and blades of grass to sprout from my scalp.
I want to associate seasons with colours,
not with customary commitments.
I want to feel the weather inside of me.
Don’t send me rainwater in the stream of photons from a handheld screen.
Don’t tell me about tomorrow, I want to know today.
Don’t give me sun, wind and rain: make me wet, sweat, sweep me away.

I want to finger the paper as the raindrops make it translucent
and then feel how it curls up in my hands as the sun dries it out.
I want you to read the creases.
I want you to see how the ink runs and blurs two words together,
I want to blur these two worlds together.