Five poems by Belinda Subraman

Belinda Subraman
Breath on the Face of Water

on cold waters off Alaska
peace is amplified or found

immersed in a 5 D calendar page
burning a memory as ice floats by

stars are more visible on an open sea
for now no internet or tv

breeze and ghost kisses
cool and calm whispers

spirit excels
pines aspire

everything is alive and moving
even ice bergs shaped like whales

cosmic white noise
submerged in sea air

life above and below
the rocking foam

everything evolves
every atom revolves

our solar system is not visible
in the naked eye of infinity

slowly we realize our unimportance
as we are lifted higher

life flows as an ocean
eventually we breathe with the sea

Homage to Dali

Our remains nourish the earth
and all that grows.

We’re all part vegetable
as well as flesh.

Thought cauliflowers
sprout into space
as the brain shrinks.

The big picture is a feast
with unlimited choices.

Time is butter.

Any Reason Sometimes

A metaphorical sun
is always trying to rise
but doesn’t.
Flat blue butterflies
wing gracefully but in circles.
A quarter moon shines brightly
but from the ground.

I alter vibrations on purpose
stuck with anxious energy.
My kitty keeps checking on me.

I’m old and my friends 
and family are dying.
I’m also growing
toward the ground.

I’m wanting to connect
but needing to numb
trying flow therapy
while grasping words.

I am pushing through
aware I’m fighting chemistry.

My kitty keeps checking on me.

Earth Report, 2022

heat advisory
fire danger
air quality alert
a new strain of virus
killing the innocent
monkey pox striking
the intimate
WW3 in progress

politicians trading liberty
and empathy for riches
as houseless numbers grow
weapons of war killing civilians 
anyone can buy  
out of the trunk of a car
gun show or store
as if killing was encouraged 

mass shootings everyday
for sport or fame
our pettiness and politics
and hormones

unknowing in our infinite smallness
that we’re toys in the brain of the cosmos
indifferent to our egos
that keep us alive
and disillusioned 

we send out signals for connection
hoping for answers
we’re unprepared to hear


death is lights out
like a coma or surgery
but we won’t wake up
the self imposed suffering
of not mattering enough
to live forever 
in movies, books or legend
any lasting alter of love
degrades our lives with pangs

we are comforted knowing
our dead loved ones 
will reach for us as we die
hallucination or hope
we like it

we choose to believe 
in magic and forever
to smooth the jagged edge
and illusion of finality
one of many realities
we fail to discern
as every molecule 
around us prickles
beams life force
and radar’s connection

we clutch
still we fade away

into the cycle
of mattering

where everything is enough

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