Friday, March 7th, 2008
War In My Heart
This morning, while unpacking some documents to scan, I found a little piece of paper with these words below, written in my own hndwriting. I don’t know exactly when and why I wrote this piece, and I don’t even remember the subject here.
Yet this little piece of paper drew down buckets of tears — salty tears of sweet descent — as I read line after line. I wasn’t crying because of the content of the poem though: I was crying for the part of me that I’ve has slipped by. I was crying for my childhood writings I lost — literally hundreds of poems and short stories. I was crying for never daring to take my pen and paper to write once again, after all these years since I lost my writings.
And I was crying for all the days gone by, and for all the dreams left behind.
WAR IN MY HEART
I fight a war not on the field
My place of battle is closer than my backyard
It is within me, probably in my heart.
But who can see me?
Who will rescue me?
I battle within, and not without
I fight for you, and not with you
I’m slain within… and out I cry
So pale I look, and so weak I am
Yet on and on I must fight
In the midst of my confusion, you stare at me
Out of your ignorance, you cheer me on
But how can I keep on fighting?
How can I even yield?
Should I carry a loaded pistol, or just a loaded mind?
Should I write it in the dailies, or just paste it on your door?
Should I mail it to the millions, or send it just to you?
Just how I should keep on fighting, I don’t know
Oh, yeah, perhaps I do…
Let me start with my heart — so innocent yet so battered
Let me teach it to stay still and only enjoy the fight
Then, on to my conscience — so proud and so unyielding
I’ll teach it to hear a cry, and bulge upon hearing
But how about my eyes? Here lies the question!
For though experience be its lot, it will not yield
And I know it all seem so silly now
And you stare and wonder why I cry
This cry breaks my innocence, pierces my pride, and raises my question
So I wear a smile, everyday, pretending I’m ok
While you look at me smilling in your ignorance.
Update: From some other scribbles on this piece of paper, I’m almost certain of the context of this writing now. I wrote this piece, back then during college days, to my sister. But the subject is someone else. You see, there was this cute little girl, who was my sister’s roommate, who….
I wonder where she is now and what she’s doing. The memories are all coming back to me now. The tears are falling, once again, except faster this time. The battle continues. But who can see me? Who can rescue me?
I knew you'd ask! George Appiah is a traveling technology consultant helping individuals, small businesses and non-profits leverage technology to hack poverty out of the world. Not enough for you? 
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