Tucked in her jacket against the cold breeze, she stepped into the puddle, staggering her feet up and down. She watched the water intently. Pure. Transparent. Beautiful.
She wondered if it was real enough to touch. If she could run her tiny little fingers through it. would it feel as mesmerizing as her innocent eyes perceived? Slowly, she spread her arm. Daring to step closer. She looked around her, at the crowd behind her. Their eyes wide open. Were they as fascinated as she was?
closer closer closer.
.she moved her body along with her arm. She closed her eyes, shutting them tight.
Tickling. Chilling. Numbing.
Giggles escaped her mouth and she grinned widely.
How can she let them know about the pleasure in her heart? How can she make them believe? she ran around still fascinated. At the never ending circle of dancing water..her curiosity was beyond words. The moments she was living were beyond joy..if only the could feel it..if only there was a way she could make them understand that it really can be touched
Sometimes it is that one moment that makes us all see that we have all held onto that inner child, that free spirit that no matter how much we try, we can never be free from.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Somewhere on the train, she sat. In silence. Looking beyond the lines. To the far heavens above. She listened to the sound of the track. On-going beneath her. Shaking her to the core.
They ask her. why do you believe? Why do you still hold on when everything is falling apart? Why do you see the birds when there are sharks below? People die. In pain. People are hurt. In vain. People are hungry. why do you believe? If God is the most merciful. why do they ache?
She touches the window with her fragile hands, the coldness of the glass makes her shiver. The sound of thunder shook her from her trance.
Its not his wrath. its not his wrath. he’s just quenching the thirst of his earth. The almighty
He’s just answering their prayers. The almighty
How else would they appreciate the beauty of his blue skies if they didn’t see the grey?
How else would they hear him?
How else would they see him?
If not for the rain. If not for the sun .if not for the pain. If not for the details.
How else? How else would they know his mercy if they didn’t feel his wrath?
Do they not feel scared in alleys after the safety of their homes?
Do they not see the morning after the chillness of the night?
She wondered if the train is ever going to stop..if they will ever reach their destination.
She looked around at the faces. At the young at the old. At the healthy at the weary. At the happy at the miserable..
He sees each. he knows each. he holds each. he listen to each. he forgives each..
Each is blind
Is deaf
Is mute
Each only chooses when to see him, hear him, and talk to him.
Each thinks praying is reaching him..Kneeling is finding him.
The truth is. he’s already there. all each have to do is see him,hear him,feel him..
Friday, December 05, 2008
When I was young, I twirled around the rusty garage pole, gripping it so hard with my hands, refusing to let go. Round and round. I twirled. Waiting for the world to blur in my eyes. And when it did, I stopped abruptly. My black dirty feet rooted to the ground.
Fascinating
The world rotated. Danced. Mutated. And then rotated back and stood still. All in a second.
Brilliant
The power I had. The power I had.
When I was young, I sharpened my pencil every few seconds, escaping the tormenting stares of the math workbook. I stood by the bin and watched the curl become longer and longer. More curls. 4+9=?. More curls. 7-13=?.And more curls. The bell rang. My pencil wasn’t striped anymore. Nothing but a sharpened tip.
When I was young, I stroked the brush on the white canvas. Up and down. Right and left. A dark grey blob was what I painted. I tried the red and then the green. The yellow. The blue. and the blob grew bigger, darker and uglier. It could be a boat. Or a cat. Or a sock. Or it just couldn’t be. All I wanted was a swing.
When I was young, I hid under the kitchen sink and waited. Water dripped onto my eyes but I remained still until I heard my name.
“The game ended you win, come out”I smiled and got up. Yelped as my head crashed into the sink.
bitter victory
When I was young, I poured water into the pot and stirred, watching the bubbles pop and form. I added more ingredients..twigs, pebbles, leaves. And more soil. I stirred and stirred until the brown mixture became softer and smoother. No one held pretence; no one tasted my chocolate mousse.
When I was young, utopia was possible
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
She tip toed on the transparent floor. Her white shoes twisting with each elegant bend.
On the rhythm, she swirled.
Her fluorescent light shone brightly. All the color hues in my eyes overlapped, eliminating the invisible
A sudden numbing ache went through my body when I heard her lullaby
I listened with my soul, hypnotized..nostalgic..
Taken back to those days..
When she drew with crayons..smiles on clouds, winks on trees..always blue..never black..
When she raised her voice..to obliterate the sound of Mafasa’s death during Lion king..
. Years later..
Death was mute..
Im submerged in this heavenly delusion..Im lost in the sound, in the air, in the ultraviolet and the white. in the big perfection. I won’t wait for the leaves to fall, hiss and die.
Faith, was enough.
It was enough. Nothing in this world or any other world that exists within it could have surpassed in majesty what I had felt...always and even beyond death.
Around me..still dancing..
Still humming
Still weeping..
Thursday, October 02, 2008
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What happened in my life that required my subconscious self to create you? My voice of reason diminished in front of you.
That long torturing school year in the sixth grade?
I rested my head on the table and cried shamelessly. Tears of anger at my pathetic need of acceptance. Tears of bitterness and self loathing. In that darkness I found you. I didn’t question my sanity because anything else was better than reality. Before I could listen to what you were telling me, I heard their muffled laughter. their remarks and cruel mockery. Like wolves feasting on raw meat. Your voice whispered in my ears telling me to talk back, to stop them and end it all. Instead.
I laughed with them.
Self degradation? Disgust? Worthlessness?
It was the desperate need to fit in. To be one of them even if it meant turning into a malicious beast. I was the clown. I was at the other end of the rope. Sometimes the rope itself.
I did things I never thought I was capable of but it was essential to be invited to their parties, to be accepted as a part of the group. Even if that meant burying who I really was in exchange for what they are, and what I deeply didn’t want to be.
Your whispers turned into agonizing screams. I couldn’t handle it. Shut up and let me be! I cant help but wonder what might’ve happened if you did.
You unplugged something inside me. Something that should’ve never been plugged in the first place. It didn’t belong in me..nor anywhere near me. When I left my own body and looked at it again and flinched, I knew somewhere along the road, I strayed.
Then and there I realized that you were my voice of reason. And you saved me. Even when I didn’t deserve to be saved.