The Dough of Life

(written on September 20th 2009)


“Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise”.

- Still I rise, Maya Angelou


Millions of centuries old,
bottom-rung pittance to the fool
but food of the Gods to the poor;
a recipe whose main ingredient is faith,
grown until tall in breezy fields, and
present every step of the run.
it’s kneaded in every niche of the world,
and is introduced shortly after birth,
as unwavering golden sums,
Just like moons and like suns.

A sustenance best served warm and with love,
rooted at the core of many cultures,
an antidote to hunger and revenge,
a fresh scented start to a day,
risen from lively ashes-
a nurturer's creation built with pride
it emerges with crust on all sides,
the greatness within waiting to be
an ally through thorns, that guides
With the certainty of tides.

Existent in many forms,
rolled, sliced, or bundled-
but nonetheless carried throughout the day,
a promise that my feet must keep going,
each step illuminates the next; into a moral quest-
and as a reckless constellation’s star in the night’s sigh,
I try to elucidate why some people will kill for more,
while others are happy to have only its crumbs;
the path of a colorful kite in the sky
is just like one’s hopes springing high.

In solitude I lit the past with tomorrow’s fuel,
and with it I lit my wildest grains of dreams,
horses rush freely,
into a vast universe of half-chances.
while valiantly testing the limits of unfeasibility,
tears occasionally wipe pain from my profile,
but never strength from my heart,
I think to myself before I lie.
just like yeast in the batter of life-
Still I'll rise.