twenty - eighteen

I've with-held myself from the keyboard for a year. For a moment in time, my memory feels fickle enough to betray me. Oozing away every detail I spent the last twelve months. They seem to have slowly escaped me.

I remember frustrations of February, and low-morale in the early winter. Professional life had me experiencing growth spurts - with pains painful enough to make me realize that I have outgrown my position's competencies. Demotivated is a horrible feeling. I was wearing anxiety, bricks in my chest and tear-stained cheeks. Waking up every morning felt like an ache. I had outgrown the challenges of my wage and craved more fair puzzles my way.

Spending spring with my mama by the windmills of Volendam, florals of Keukenhof, enjoying coffee and waffles in Brussels and admiring the fortress of Luxembourg City. I remember giggling away across Europe with my mama, feeling most loved and wonderful - with every conversations reminding me of how lucky I was. My heart and morale recuperated in ways. Spending quality time with my mom always does the trick. 

Moving on my own for the very first time in May.  Having a one-bedroom all to myself and sun-soaked summer balcony days, reading my afternoon away.

Spending a month away in Amman, fully knowing it would be my last visit in a while. Finding myself blooming as a being - both professionally and personally. Realizing my capability to be on my own and alone in the desert that have witnessed caravans of histories. Feeling finite from the sands that ran between my toes and the infinite stars above me. Courage was within my fingertips - and my Creator was all encompassing.

I remember the rush of Wadi Mujib. Canyoning rocks, and pulling my weight on ropes as the water that rushed tried to drown me. Every frustrations February before amplified. And my body embodied the perseverance in resistance. To receiving a phone call end of July of a promotion. It was relief and sadness all the same. But mostly victory for the opportunity to begin again.

September was a period of transitions. New work beginning and getting over the learning curve.

And in November, I settled into a groove. In between balcony and hammock nights of Bocas del Toro, Panama - I felt cuddled into peace. Between empanadas and brewed coffee in Boquete where musicians filled the air, I finally felt in place.

Now here I am reminiscing in my candle-lit living room. Reliving my year on the second-last day of December. Hoping for greater courage to strengthen my spiritual-self. And for light to guide my heart and path in the new year that comes my way.

Steps of Cordoba

Do you think of me, as you wander the cobblestone steps of Cordoba? When the flamenco guitarist fiddles string - is it my fingers you imagine twirling and intertwined in between. Like in Lisbon some nights ago, when the fado singer croons and we caught each other's smile at ease.

Venturing separately into unknowns. Yet finding breadcrumbs of familiarity in each other's path, sensing footprints and heartbeats while apart.

-written June 2018

To feel your insides sink when the door shuts again. Because sometimes - time is a fool, decisions makes messes and you have to keep convincing yourself that this is for the best.

So you gather every part of you left, seeking warmth and to feel something again. Curled between your comforter and your bed. 

La Habana

Remember by the docks - on the east-side of Havana, where I felt loved. With the universe entangled between my fingers and yours. Walking all wobbly in the warmth of Cuban heat. Remember feeling butterflies from the sound of Buena Vista in the air leaving me bubbly.

Remember walking in the sunburning heat to pay respects to Che at the revolution plaza and Lennon who sat waiting at a park. And enjoying local ice-cream by the beating waves of the Malecon, only to have a shy waiter telling us he has no convertible pesos for change.

Remember realising bliss in unfamiliarity. By a cute cafe in the corner of Obispo just by the El Capitolio with a glass of orange juice as I was inhaling coffee. While rickshaws pass by, and laundries dance on balconies.

Remember timelessness without knowing age.
And understanding nostalgia, without having experiences first.

i don't understand why my chest feels heavy when i passed the street today.
but something tells me, it is because you are no longer there.

the breeze of nostalgia has hit,
and i miss the sound of a whistling tune.

Into the missing, and gaps, and splintered pieces we thought we could fix. We couldn't leave. Because like scars, the gap of a wound needed to be filled. So we filled ourselves with each other,
...over and over and over again. Fully knowing our skin is made of the same thinness. And again, and again, we thought it was each other that we really needed. Each other that we really need.

Pathos

In the name of loneliness.
We were magnets with magnified flaws, that kept returning and seeking.
But endings and beginnings are confusingly the same.
But even words that suppose to mean, lose meanings.
So we lose everything. The heart. The mind. The real.
The realm of make-believe we wanted so badly to be...

-written  2017/04/01

the better part of me

then i finally hear words

i've twice heard in my mind, 

it's like finding a home you will never again see

and feeling temporary warmth - i know will soon leave

because some days it helps to pretend
until the pendulum of feelings swings
and you realize
the gravity of breaking again

Undefined often spirals out of touch.

But it does not make it unreal,

May we never forget how it really feels.

but maybe we'll remember the feeling of wholeness and lightness at the same time

it is in that very moment that we may -

find our breath again.

labels

caught up in a moment like labels on a hook
happiness is easy
maybe falling in love
feels like gravity

laughter that tastes like warmth in winter
and sings to butterflies to my ears
infectious is the break of a smile that does more than kisses my insides and soul

when the sun streams through, and reflects from your eyes. there is a look of softness i will always remember. the crinkle lines on the side of your eyes and a smile i'd love to keep

for more than just a while.

an evening

under umbrellas, the rain keeps company

this is where we should have been

this is where i want to be

and here you are, 

a wonderful wanderer

finding warmth from the unknown

in spite of it all

Gerasa

In Gerasa of Antiquity, the crossroads of valleys imprinted with footprints of Alexander the Great. Broken pieces of cobblestone steps, in an oval plaza once held promises of prosperity. Yet, the most humble and arrogant of men know - that promises are often made to be broken. With every pillar in my view, once intricately carved with Hellenistic perfection each stands fractured now, distressing lines of frailty.

I can only wonder whose footsteps I trail, centuries after. And imagine the realm of Greek and Roman empires preceding me. Temples of Jupiter and Diana overlooking the remnants of a kingdom - a display of pride once lingered. What kind frailty would Jupiter feel, to once be the King of Gods, but he now no longer reigns? And what sorrow would Diana feel, to summon the moon over this sight of eternal silence, dusted and deserted dynasty?

And I, the solo wanderer unkempt with my imagination. Am left to believe that everything is but a dream, and everything has been created to be left and remain a dream. 

The story of my laugh-lines

Gravity sinks hearts. And here we are, across tables, unable to speak of what we think about. Sights and sighs, I can feel you hold your breath as I inhale to express words we both saw coming. They came in a direction, like a train going at full speed - but we are on the tracks. And we stood hand in hand. This is a separation of degrees colder than the solstice of winter. But sighed you did, and exhaled as the coldness surrounded us. As we both begin in isolation. Isolated but not strangers.

I am convinced we can never be strangers. I have learned over, and over again. Tenfolds over. That the lines have been drawn on my skin, under my eyes like convincing wrinkles - we can never be strangers. And maybe the same line on my right cheek exposed when I smile, reveal my every attempt to find humour in it all. I have learned to find wit in the wrong of all spaces. 

Salud

Here is to friendships
that test the limit of our capabilities,
to reveal a side
we never thought existed in us.

Here is to those in our lives
who see thing in us we do not see.
And made us believe in ourselves again...
when we never thought it possible

Pinned

trace your finger on my palm,
like you would with a map
the destination is known -
unspoken for, and not alone