I want answers,
Not excuses or explanations,
I want answers,
To questions I ask with my eyes.
To the questions in my mind.
I want answers and that’s why every time you ask me,
“How are you doing?”
I tell you “Good.”
I want answers and until I hear your question just right,
I’ll always tell you lies.
I want to tell you a story.
No, it’s not a revelation,
No, it’s not a confession.
It is a conversation,
Something only you and I know about…remember?
“How is it that you are still single?” you ask.
It’s the first time we’ve faced each other and my heart’s on my sleeve, my soul frozen in a moment long gone. I do not want this. You can feel it, the tension, the angst, the shards of glass you’re standing on…yet you continue, like it’s a cigarette, once lit, it’s gotta be smoked.
You take a long drag. I fold my knees to my chest. It’s raining outside, the kettle stopped a while ago, I’ll probably spend another evening in the dark. You stretch your hand, try to grasp as many drops of rain…and then shake them off.
I do not want this.
“You are not here, Love. I know, but I had to see you. I know…no, I don’t, and truth is no matter how hard I try, I cannot shake it off. It’s like there is a part of me that is missing and when I couldn’t take it, I just got on the bus and came here. This is a nice cosy place you have.”
I do not want this.
You shrug your shoulders and continue, “You remind me of Howard Roark. I never wanted to read that book, but you insisted, remember? I cannot shake how symmetrical the author described him, but it’s not just his sheer will or pursuit of his life, it’s how he refused to be conquered. You have refused to be conquered Love, and that scares me…it scares me how you can choose to remove yourself from a situation without a trace of emotion.
How you bleed but there is not one sign of your pain reflected to the world. See, to know you, I have to look for you in between the lines you post on your blog, how sick is that? Even then, I can never truly say that it is truly who you are, you choose which side to show and to whom and for how long…that scares me. So, yesterday, the guys and I were hanging out and Marto asks me, ‘what happened?’ and I couldn’t speak. I knew what to say ‘I messed up,’ but even those three words could not come out of my mouth. I want answers Love, but the questions are not yours to answer and yet I demand them from you, how selfish is that? How is it that I wound you but I am the one who never heals? Look, are you happy here? Have you met someone? Is he good to you? Are you happy? I just need to know, maybe then…I’ll stop going round in circles, killing my lungs hoping to smoke your existence away. I did not come here to give a speech…maybe if I wrote you all this, you would remember every word. Then…you always do, I may even read it on your blog, you are great with words, but greater with pain and I’ve caused you so much pain that in so doing I have wounded myself. I do not want this life Love. I guess, I am sick and tired of paying bills, watching everyone I know have someone to call their own while I let mine go. You don’t have to say anything…you shouldn’t.”
“The lights are back, can I make you some tea or coffee?” I ask…and you shake your head and as my feet touch the floor, I see it…glistening on your cheeks and I know it, because I have been there, not once, not twice, not thrice but seven times Stardust…seven because to count the eighth would be to admit that I let you choose the value you placed upon me.
I walk to the next room, turn the kettle on and stare outside the window. The neighbor’s brown cat saunters into her house, drenched.
I can hear you…and even though my soul is torn, my heart knows not to show mercy, I guess this is what it feels like to be broken.
What I can promise you is that you’ll never die, I guess like every good thing, you’ll live on in my words. You’ll find yourself in between lines on every post I write, because you’re on your way to healing and I will not interfere with your wholeness…for you’ve learned that when you wound the ones you love, you are not spared the pain…this is my testament of love.
My Mother said she knew my feet were meant for motion when I hit the ground,
Like clouds, soft cotton buds on the earth, I glide
She also said that she cringed with every step,
The world would consume my light, she feared this would happen,
Like clouds, soft cotton buds on the earth, I glide
I told her it would never happen.
I would not let the world break me.
She would look at me…her eyes oceans of the pain I’d endure.
Like clouds, soft cotton buds on the earth, I glide
Oh, but then I met you,
Son of the soil, fruit of the sun, seed of life
In your arms I soared and fell on my back, I have no recollection of where my feet are…
I wish I could glide on this,
Blink you away,
Drench every memory of you in tears, drink you up and spit you out!
But, my heart seems to relish this feeling, there is something about this anger that smells like ultimate power,
It rises from the depths of my heart to my skin,
Look closely how it glows, an ember of power…
I wish I could glide on this feeling, dance away, like clouds, soft cotton buds on the earth.
Our people say that you should not curse the land you walk upon.
They are right. They are wrong. They have no say on where you step on, but I heard about her. For every time I blink, I imagine what she would look like, her laughter, her touch, her hair…her teeth, her footsteps.
When they are not watching, I walk down to the river, sit on the big rock by the bank, talk to the water, ask it to bring her voice my way.
She was a rare beauty.
She was a lovely soul.
She had the moon in her eyes, the sun in her smile and the wind in her walk.
I listen and send my pleas to the river, how the water flows…miles and miles away, taking our stories, hopes, dreams, fears and pain down a path unknown to us. Where does the river end her journey? I once asked and Father told me to go and ask the river, it might give me an answer to my question.
How do you live your life as a shadow? I’ll tell you…you take a breath when the world is asleep, look not into people’s eyes but stare at the steps they leave behind when they walk away from you…and finally, you visit the river every day asking her to bring back to life the sister you never met.
For like the stars, she shines brightly but is so far away that if she were to come closer…then maybe, just maybe, you would take a breath when the world is wide awake, and finally they’ll get to see you.
I want you and you want someone else,
So I stay hoping you will turn around, but even then I know that I don’t have to make you love me.
I am in the sea of tomorrow, you might come across this text, or see this in the quiet moments before you go to bed and know that what I said five years ago was my way of asking for time.
I got it.
I got the distance, because back then you wanted me and I wanted someone else,
So, you stood there and looked away knowing I was cruel to break your heart.
My greatest fear is that you’ll read this and call,
You will call and ask “was that for me?” and a part of me will hesitate, but even then, we’d both know I mean every word.
So, I will immortalize you in words,
Soak you up in chapters,
Craft you in images and sail the course of feelings.
I will smile and sit back knowing that I sent you my love and the universe was kind enough to remind me that “sorry love, you had your chance.”
I’ll give the universe the middle finger and settle down at Java, drown in your smile, order an iced mocha and chocolate cake and listen to Emile Sande.
She’s gone and suddenly she’s everywhere.
Pets can break your heart. Kittens to be precise, but I am at odds and writing about her is wounding myself over and over again. We rescued a kitten two months ago and named her Daisy. At first I found her annoying because she was everywhere, in my face, on my books,snoozing on my clothes,sprawling on my laps as I watched a movie, jumping on my feet and always purring.Then, I went to sleep with her beside me, always woke up to her face, played along with her,fed her and let her sleep on books.
Yesterday, as I was shutting the door I heard her scream and looking down I saw her neck caught between the hinge. It was 8:07pm and mom was watching an episode of CSI. Daisy twitched and kicked and kicked and lay still.
Life’s fragile and she fought, God she fought. We watched her take her last breath and buried her out in the garden, two steps beneath my bedroom window.
Two women digging away into the dirt at night, and I held her and wrapped her in my favorite cloth. She did not sleep beside me. She did not drink from her bowl today, and who knew that this little kitten would break my heart, who knew that she’d die in my hands, who knew this of the one I called Daisy?
nilichoandika 