I have been staring at the screen of my pc, in the hope that doing so could trigger some poetic streak that would send me into a writing mood, and voila, everything could be completed in less than an hour; I would produce another piece of poetry to add to my personal collection. And so I thought.
But sitting here for almost 30 minutes, nothing inspiring comes to mind.
Then, I remember Sam -- a young man I met several days ago from the chatroom, in one of those boring hours. Some interesting character. There was something hidden behind those eyes that was not visible immediately ---the kind that reflects a certain sadness, almost akin to pain. A day after he showed me his face on cam, his eyes haunted me. And more than that, I saw a scar of Life.
At 11, life happened to him so fast. The transition to manhood was too abrupt, a child forced to become an adult; probably depriving him of a complete enjoyment of his adolescence, quite unprepared for the inevitable circumstance that forced its way in.
Now, at 22, he is a veteran of life -- driven to the flesh trade whose clienteles belong to the harsher specie.
The jolt would always be there everytime I try to visualize men's behavior satiating their animal urges, pushing to limit one's physical endurance. Is there something enjoyable about the humiliation of one's body and spirit? What could heal the scars? Yes, what could heal the scars?
Why do I write about something like this? I did not end up with a poem for Sam as I was planning to - a poem that would somehow speak of love. I did not because I feel pain. And this pain will not go away while Sam remains in the muddy forest green.
For you, Sam I offer my favorite flower ---- the Lotus.
posted by saneeh @ 10:17 PM
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