the sky lingers above us
the grass beneath us
losing balance but holding at the same time
onto a truth and a peace that only within one's body can be felt
for external to us we have no ability to control peace
this is the time for exploration, i know
the places i feel safe
are not always what they appear to be
this is an exercise in growth, in understanding my vulnerabilities
that the reason why i can't let you go is because of these vulnerabilities
that in the night
at the darkest hour,
i think perhaps i am mistaken
that the only way to ever really know
is to let you go
and it will all fall away
no dew is left
and we are here, eye to eye
you to me
we to i.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
i turn on NPR in the mornings and sometimes they do a report on China. in the background there are the murmurings of a language that i grew up with- heard in the womb, learned as my first language, travelled in China to chase in earnest.
i hear the familiar accents and tones but don't always comprehend. i think about flowers for algernon, and how similar i feel when i realize that my grasp of a language has slipped without my noticing.
it's such a strange feeling, to look back on theses and papers and letters that i wrote with my own words, but not be able to understand them.
i'm sure i could write more elaborately on this. but it's just a thought.
i hear the familiar accents and tones but don't always comprehend. i think about flowers for algernon, and how similar i feel when i realize that my grasp of a language has slipped without my noticing.
it's such a strange feeling, to look back on theses and papers and letters that i wrote with my own words, but not be able to understand them.
i'm sure i could write more elaborately on this. but it's just a thought.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
when silence is deafening, i like to put your hand to my mouth, to give it a reason to be so thunderous. i think about crouching under your eyelashes, and wonder if they would shield me from the rain. they say i laugh too loudly, but i retort, isn't it better than how they don't laugh at all?
she told me about how in this little town in the middle-of-nowhere-Texas, there are 2 cemeteries. there is one cemetery for the "white" people and a separate one for the hispanic people. her husband is from this little town, and she is from Mexico City. so she asked him once, when we die, do i have to stay over on this other cemetery, or can i stay with you? and he said, since you want to be cremated, i'll just tuck all of you under my arm right here and you can stay there forever.
she told me about how in this little town in the middle-of-nowhere-Texas, there are 2 cemeteries. there is one cemetery for the "white" people and a separate one for the hispanic people. her husband is from this little town, and she is from Mexico City. so she asked him once, when we die, do i have to stay over on this other cemetery, or can i stay with you? and he said, since you want to be cremated, i'll just tuck all of you under my arm right here and you can stay there forever.