To Strike A Chord

To strike a chord in the heart strings of those who seek beauty and truth, to make an unsuspecting reader smile, to pave a new wave of thought, to connect with the masses, the unseen and unheard, to show the silent that they have a voice, to merge fantasy and reality in such a way that no distinctions can be made between them, to erase all boundaries holding back the imagination, to captivate a reader in such a way that he begins to think of himself as a character, to share experiences and experience my share of things, to record adventures and make unlikely characters heroes, and to start a conversation among those who otherwise would have never met…this is what I hope to accomplish through my writing.



These tears that fall from glassy eyes
This pain that she has kept inside
The way a heart can choose to bleed
Not out of want, but helpless need
This cold emotion seeping through
Has taught her well, has shown her truth
A fragile soul cannot endure
For that, she brands her soul as pure
This foreign lie, once held too true
This loss that brings her close to you
This hurt that cleaves her heart—in two

None but the truth of woven lies
Reveals your clever, sweet disguise
None but the hurt you choose to give
Assures her that her soul will live
This ship that sinks beneath her hands
As oceans drown out signs of land
Oceans of tears that she has cried
As you stand, hero, by her side
Not out of sadness! No, far from sad
For you would want the life she had
She cries these tears of smothered pain
Having slept so long in the rain
She shares the sorrows of the sky
Falls down no matter how hard she tries
She lives the truth encased in lies
And so she cries
She cries
She cries


A soldier stood beneath the rain

His daughter standing by his side

Waiting to board an east-bound plane,

He held her tightly while she cried


She asked him if he had to go

Sobbing her heart out on his sleeve

He sadly smiled and held her close

Then told her, “Yes, I have to leave.”


He bowed his head, torn in between

The two things that he loved the most

A daughter whom he’d barely seen

And the honor of his army post


She’d gotten used to seeing him

Only every now and then

Things would be normal when he came

Then he’d pack and leave again


Her third-grade mind had understood

That this was Daddy’s job

He’d tell her he’d stay if he could

And she would only sob


Now there they stood, a strong-willed pair

She, clutching her father’s shirt

He brushed back a strand of her hair

And saw her blue eyes filled with hurt


The soldier then began to cry

And pressed his daughter to his chest

His plane ascended to the sky

And both their hearts came, then, to rest


The father laughed and dried their tears

And thought how blind he’d been before

He held his daughter to him, near

This angel—who’d saved him from the war


She smiled and kissed her father’s cheek

Her fears had all now somehow died

She now felt strong, instead of weak

With her hero by her side