A poem and a sketch
A spoken word poem
There is a softness in the light of today’s evening.
A mellow afternoon as the sun descends into the mountain, Acatenango.
Hill of trees and hikers,
Canac, tree of wonders sits deep in its soil.-
The hotness of the day has settled,
The wind is soft and fresh,
Breathing in feels simple and easy.
A soft flute plays in the background of the café,
I look down at my writing hand,
My stretched out forearm covered in a black plastic - new art on my skin.
‘D U A L I D A D’ -
The expression of all in multiplicity,
There is no I without you,
No light without the abscence of darkness,
We exist in the shadows.
I know myself and the world and yet,
All remains uncertain.
The duality of existing,
The inevitable paradox of a breathing soul and body.
The burning flame of a single candle - red.
Vibrantly reflecting on the book that sits with me.
All About Love and it makes me think of the colour -
provokative.
Of hearts and blood,
The ripeness of a passion.
-
The mountain splits and Fuego breathes in the last rays of sun. Exhale.
Winter dusk at last.
Only that is is not winter where I sit, -
It is warm and humid.
The tropical scents of Guatemala sway in the air.
Palmtrees and cacti,
Enredaderas in the low rooftops of the Café Bohéme.
I sip away a strong black coffee,
All that bothered me now escapes me - it is irrelevant.
I am miniscule and so are my worries,
The wall is stripped in half - two oceans of blue.
-
I get lost in my reading -
She speaks of Love and I listen.
Summoned to remember the wisdom that grief and pain can hold,
I sigh.
I sip away the coffee,
chocolate toned,
bitter and raw.
The cup matches the wall,
I smile.
The joyous ride of paradox,
I draw a green peyote
and the solidity of its holes -
this notebook has never seen colour before.
And today the thought of Loving,
the art of Love, -
brought Life into the plant I thought I’d forgotten to water this week.
She bloomed and shone,
So I stretched and prayed.
A prayer for her,
for him,
for the Truth to rise over all.
I prayed for it to crown between the mountains and shake the world to its core.
I saw red again,
Swahili on his shirt,
And freedom in his eyes.
I start to question the way I learned to Love.
Was it by falling ?¡
Was there ever mention of the will and choice that goes into it ?
A promise to Love is far from a fall.
It is a landing,
Of grounding nature
that speaks clear and true,
‘I, Love.’
It claims its name,
And I hear it - in the laughter of another,
In the embrace after longing,
In the intimacy of a conversation.
A mother and her child,
A lone man and a girl who asks a question,
‘Do you know the WIFI password?’
The man shares and I turn around to see them smile.
Sweet, loving world and the coffee tastes less bitter this time.
-
The moment escapes me,
The evening has swifted upon us and now the wind is strong and brisk.
I am tired and yet,
waking life today seems so serene and worth observing.
