Arco Iris R

Joined May 2009

Writing and reading are my passions.. / The cover image is free to use but with Photo credit: Hailey E Herrera Art Journey via...

Shoaib's Poem "Contemplate"

Hello my fellow bubblers,
My cousin, Isa Rodriguez first introduced me to Red Bubble a few months ago. At first, I was a little timid to write and was just enjoying myself reading and looking at the arts of photography. I was intrigued. Then I took that first launch and started to write. Before I knew it I started to make friends. One of the first was Shoaib and when I first read one of his poems “Freedom”, it made me smile and I so wanted to be able to be young again and do what he had done, but I didn’t think I was able to go backwards up the escalator. He said that even with all of my aches and pains, I could still be able to do it. He said that Bush senior had parachuted from an airplane. From then on, I fell in love with him for his sense of humor. But then, as I got into reading and looking at more of his works and saw his wisdom and this coming from a very young man, I asked him if he was a 100 year old in a body that never got old. He would even start giving me advice on things (imagine a 54 year old woman) which made perfect sense to me and when he found that I couldn’t do some things in Red Bubble, he would gladly show me how and of course, so did my cousin Isa. I then met Jonathan and we also quickly made friends. There was colorblind, Erika, Sally, Linaji, Trish, Lisa, Wigs, Becca, Rhenastarr, Pepper 08 whom I immediately fell in love with her work, Kristen and then I met Cass, Shar, Helen, Raymondo and lately many others such as Char, my sweet, sweet dear Erich Biemer, Ricardo Perez, Jim Marshall, Alex, Trenchtown, Jacqleen, Shelly, Teacup, skinnyman and I could just keep on. If I left anyone out, please forgive me.

Now, lately, I have been feeling a little out of the weather, I suffer from depression, am a diabetic, have high blood pressure and had my son over for a visit which all of this left me without really going on-line. Now, what took me by surprise, as I know as everyone else, was what we all thought was Shoaib’s goodbye, among other things. That was really what shook me up. I think that made me start feeling down for to me he was the wind beneath my wing in here. I know I am exposing my feelings here, but I think that a lot of others feel the same way. I mean, there are different kinds of winds, there are hurricane winds, stormy winds, gusts of winds and there is that fresh air that brings a delightful breeze that will be just right for you to feel cool and fresh and just feel lazy and content. But, to me he is balance. He will be that breath of fresh air when you need him to be, a gust of wind to give you a push to help yourself move on with life and get out of a crabby mood, a storm and hurricane when he comes up with these brilliant ideas and motivates you to join in the fun and for me, he was just, the right perfect wind, the wind beneath my wings to help me fly here in Red Bubble. And that’s when I thought that my perfect right wind was blowing in a different direction and letting me fall.

But then he wrote, the poem “Contemplate” and that touched me to the core. It showed that he is also human, not a god for us to be loading all of our problems on him, though he doesn’t mind for he has a heart of gold. He understands when we hit bottom, for he’s been there, but asks us to help ourselves and look at life for what the beautiful things it has to offer. And there he wrote something that he had told me before

“Life is a gift and your words are friends,
so if you don’t sing how can the world hear
the magnificence in your voice?

Yes, I had become silent. Others noticed and asked me to continue to write for they also wanted to hear my voice. I thank all of you for that and I thank Shoaib for his poem Contemplate
Artist: Shoaib .

I might not have all the words right when you reach out to me
But when hope has lost sight and you look for a reason on the screen
Just know we all go through moments when life has made us want to bleed
And when death seems to be better than having a voice that screams…

Remember that although death prevents nightmares; it also destroys dreams

You came to seek advice from me, but you know only you hold the key
This is what I tell you because this is what I believe
I feel that with all my being because this is what I have seen
Life is precious; And you still have trials before you reach your true destiny

Think of the consequences of others; it’s selfish to think you are only destroying your own being

When I look at others who’ve been there; that point at the seams
Never do they look back and not be thankful they aren’t deceased
Because depression never lasts and hope always does increase
They say “nothing is for free” and you know what, even your life is on lease

Because everyone pays for their mistakes; But everyone can choose in what to believe

And I know it’s easy for others to tell you there’s hope in stormy seas
But I too have been there, that point where I was on my knees
And death seemed like a choice that didn’t have as many repercussions to me
I got out not by turning for help, but by improving myself to get to be where I want to be

We are all defined by the choices we make not contemplate, so remember the significance of your choice
Life is a gift and your words are friends, so if you don’t sing how can can the world hear the magnificence in your voice?

This at least was what touched me. Instead of being that wind beneath my wing he is now that eagle, that when the mother knows her young ones are ready for flight, she will give them a push into the air, but if they don’t start flying, she will be there to catch them if need be. So if you haven’t read it, please do so. It will be a life saver not only for the ones who just shut themselves down and not taking the opportunities they are given in life, but for who literally are thinking of shutting off their lives forever.

Once again I thank you Shoaib and all of my other friends for being there for me. And if I have exposed my inner feelings here then I feel like Helen’s poem where she says that all poets die every day for every time they write, a little of ourselves is exposed to others.

With much love,

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