Mama said earth was born to house souls, like mamas housed babies and mittens housed hands. She said the moon held all earth’s memories, like she held me and daddy held her. After she died, I prayed that the moon would send me her voice, her face, her scent.
I try to write you, Childhood, in beautiful prose, scrawl you in silken ink. I try to teleport there, to donuts for dinner, to Chickenpox and calamine lotion, sticking to Princess Ariel pajamas, to bunkbed slides. But you sit on the paper, bathetic, worthless…
Smell of used books, my fingers surf aging, wrinkled spines, 1899, 1985, such peaceful reveries, take nothing to remind, of half-priced royalty, other places, other times, constantly transported to futures and to pasts, the only type of freedom that lasts.
I had a dream inside a dream that you were me & I was me & hatred screamed for us to flee, to get the hell off his property. Cause we were vermin, spat deathly tongue, with tarnished spirits & broken skin. We had nowhere left to run, dreams were our final destination.
Remember that time I tried to purge you from my tired mind before a Russian exam & professor said, “Is everything fine?” “Да.” I smiled, suppressing the tears, that choked & seared my throat. Could only hope, you hadn’t lived in vain, finally free of the pain.
Back then, we lost ourselves, faith, minds, in the thick smoke of infidelity, drama, lies exchanged to save face, pride, when in actuality we could’ve been better, had we simply tried.
I feel so alone here. I don’t know what’s wrong. Wake up and the point is a mystery. I can write these words but they can never be enough. Those I love call it drama, but they don’t me. The quiet is so loud here. These instruments of doubt. Try to block them out but […]
Damn death- swimming through labyrinthine waves. You were here today, kinetic, tangible, I swear I kissed your face. I swear I gazed upon the light you emanate. Damn. Death, the beauty that doesn’t belong to you, why are you so willing to take?
Remember when we were young, and our guns, were filled with water? & we usurped enemies who breached the porch, refusing to obviate wars? & they barked commands from the 2nd floor window, sending their yipping army of snack thieves? & the only aid we needed was Kool?
We found grace in streams of yesterdays and dreams of tomorrows. We found it in interlaced fingers, tiptoeing on snow-covered decks, in late night fingertip massages, reclined, while winter vibes vibe to crackling firewood. Thank God. We found peace.