Poem 5
The sweet night sang to me in black and white
The loving breeze asked me to stay warm and smell what was sweet
I shiver with the nostalgia you asked me to remember
I smiled because the hope I whispered about, you already knew.
The glow of your laugh made the water murmur
The moon and our memories asked us to come closer
And your sweet hands told me I could rest easy
Who?
I talk to a pretty wall that talks back
But when I talk enough the wall stops-
It sounds like a crack
I talk to a pretty wall that tells me to act on command
It tries to tell me when to stop-
But I won’t take a demand
I talk to a pretty wall that stands tall on this floor
When I interrupt, it stops-
Because it knows that I can build a door
I talk to a pretty wall that has a hard heart
When I tell it to stop-
For some reason my words can’t take the pains apart
I talk to a pretty wall that sticks to its griefs
When I tell it my truths it stops-
But it holds onto its beliefs
I talk to a pretty wall that has an opinion
But when I tell it my facts it stops-
Because my words aren’t something it can fill in
I talk to a pretty wall and it causes an infliction
I don't talk to it for too long
Because it holds my reflection
I count blocks
I count blocks; the way I count mala beads
I gasp for air and open I mouth to the dry sky for rain
I look for the stars to give I prana to continue
I tell myself I like the briny smell of the East River
I tell myself I'm venturesome and street smart.
If I run the right way I can't be raped
I tell myself if I throw up it'll be okay.
Sometimes that happens when you jog
I tell myself I'm in love and in bliss
And if I'm not yet it's okay because I'll reach it in the next block
I tell myself the block I just blinked down is good because it means I was being meditative
For some reason these orange lights don't burn I like Swami orange
Maybe if I stopped my panting and slapping feet I'd hear the self scream
I love is breaking.
The storm waits for self before surrounding.
Secret words cry the water self wished for.
I turn away this time from the drink I hid from soft eyes
Lalita Zakaryan is an emerging artist from New York City based in Washington Heights. My art is a reflection of an urge to define and redefine life situations as I am developing and understanding myself and the world. I think of my art as reaching out to a place of pain and hope we all hold in us. My work is inspired by my coming of age experiences and the want to communicate to other's the value of evaluating difficult life situations but also letting them go.