Between two breaths is life

I think in our lifetime, we experience many moments of rebirths. It takes dramatic changes for some to realize this new beginning. For others, it is every breath of air inhaled.

Fisherman in the city

I saw a man crossing the road with a fisherman's hat, rubber boots and a branch in his left hand. Down busy Laurier Ave West, where men wore suits and women wore dresses. & I thought to myself,
What a picturesque moment it was.
The man seemed to be cropped out of a children's book.

In a paradox city where conformity defines what is sane,
Yet, madness is cowardliness when revealing the true self.

Disclosure to closure

The night was cold. But as was every of the 8 nights in El Novillero. But I suppose there was something about that night that caused a surge of warmth inside of me. In the back corner of my mind, I knew my emotions played a role in generating this subtle heat. I was volatile. Fragile and filled with feelings I could not comprehend. At any given moment, I knew could burst or break. But what kept me together was the presence of sixteen others around me. 

And the basketball.
The dark brown, and barely inflated ball being thrown around seventeen of us.
And I thought then. That if a flimsy ball was capable of withholding what little left of air in it, then I could contain myself. It was reassuring in some weird way to believe that I was made of rubber. 

So we sat and some of us sang, whispered and reflected. All seventeen of us, on the cement court between two nets. The very court that soaked our sweat for a week. Where the highland sun blazed and burnt our skin. Where little Maya Kiche girls and boys giggled and teased me into distraction, between wheeling wheelbarrows and shovelling gravel. Now all I hear are echoes of their laughters and apparitions of their infectious smiles...


At some point, we laid on our backs, against the cold, grey ground. In silence.

The infinite stars above me. Winking away at almost every inch of the darkness. I searched for the Big Dipper, and could barely locate it. I finally found my voice to question my friends if it was possible to see Big Dipper from Guatemala. Someone responded affirmatively, yes.

The only constellation I had ever known to trace in my lifetime. The very one that willingly reveals itself to me almost every time I sought for it. The same one that I saw on the bus to Montreal on the way to the airport before our flight...Big Dipper had camouflaged itself into its peers of million others.


And I was taken aback.At the beauty designed into perfection above, and presented itself to me. The universe opened itself. I felt tinier than the stars above. And the hills and mountains all around offered relief. I was overwhelmed, yet my heart was full. Filled with love I could not tell then if I deserved. I was experiencing seventy-five emotions at once, then finally I found calmness.


Like I understood everything, in that moment of epiphany. My surrounding- from the sky to the ground- embodied an experience I had frequently thought about only in my head and would sometimes reveal with words. It was surreal. My train of thoughts turned into a physical experience, resonated by the stars, sky, and earth around me. It was a moment of disclosure and of closure. 


I realized how infinitesimal I was. How vulnerable. My existence was limited, and my capabilities are restricted to what was prescribed to me. I became aware of my fragility, and how fallible I was. All throughout my twenty years, I have been teasing with the idea of "changing the world". The thought had sowed ego, yet at the very moment I felt weak. Yet it was that moment of weakness that I realized, I am only human. There is a higher Being, and He knows me.


I accepted everything thrown to me. I accepted that my stay in a country I had made my own, was temporary. I accepted that I may have been a foreigner, but this earth is my home and not mine alone. I accepted that I have a place to return to, and more tasks to fulfil. I accepted that it was possible to know love, even if language is incapable of expressing.


And probably the most sobering thought was this. I accepted that I am confined to my limitations as a human, and although I will never change the world, I know I am capable of some things. And these things begin with myself. I am capable of loving, sharing, helping and learning.



The night was a gift.
And as many have promised eternity before the stars, I knew this was a memory that will last eternally with me.

And it has. This is a memory conjured up so frequently. Often during my darkest days. Upon my return, I have often found relief and comfort from reflecting on this memory. It serves as a constant reminder of who I am and what I am capable of. More than anything, it reminds me that I can be anywhere yet still be at home....as long as the sky and stars still hover above me. And as long as I have faith sown within me.

Contracts and Promises

The general principle of contract is "offer, acceptance and deliver"
What is imminent is the component of 'commitment'.
Promises are also commitments.
But contracts are more enforceable than promises.
The saying goes, that promises are made to be broken.

In contracts, a breach is ground to seek remedy.
Promises are similar to contracts, but not entirely-
But what do humans seek for when promises are broken?

Sweltering

My window is left ajar to my left, as it begs for summer breeze to blow. Wafts of warmth enters instead, igniting my forehead and neck to respond feverishly with sweat. To my right, the fan blows. It spins in a frenzy but only serves to discharge more heat, repelling the sombre and unwelcome entrance from my window.

I sit in between. The fan and the window. Like a fence-

Or a net rather,
Of a table-tennis game.
                                                     The sweltering heat is the ping-pong ball.

And although light streams through the pane
Nuanced clouds have triumphed over the evening sun
I breathe in dry dusty earth and anticipate the mucky smell of nature-
I love how the rain smells.

Perhaps, the rain will carry with it whistles of coolness.

Sepia

Some lyrical lines of a song can touch the core of your soul...deep enough to leave you breathless with a nostalgic scar.

Some phone calls can do the same too.

Mahogany

Your eyes, they burn like the desert's sun,
Emanating heat against my naked skin
They pierce beyond flesh,
Leaving redness to swell on my bronzed cheek
& deeper to my core, conquering territories
Stripping me cold, soundless and empty

The same eyes, with milky whiteness that reflect
The solemnly glow of the moon
Once held a gaze filled with stencilled promises into parchments
Of vows that left my inner core to feel full-
Smudged ink and stains remains shredded in loom

Your eyes, with bold mahogany-coloured darkness,
They whisper eloquently
Of poetries and praises that seldom escape those crimson lips

I find refuge in
The silence of responses that resounds
For poised between verses that are unpronounced-
Is affinity
That only your eyes can speak of.

     Yours, is the weapon that disarms me

     & the very same that conjure tempests within me

     And affirms-

    And calms me
Defining the parade of love in between.