Fog (2)

Fog

A white wall

A curtain

A misty window

To apparent nothingness

What mysterious wind?

Brought it our way

And why is it so comfortable?

And decided to stay

To linger around

Our harbour, our lakes

Our mountains

Our forests

Our cities and roads

Lie down and rest

We stroll and the distance

Shortens its length

The fog is determined

To wrap around itself

And not let us see

And warn us about

Discovering beauty

In its uncertain haze

In its oblivious face

We breathe and we live

We walk right through it

And the fog seems to look at us

Not disturbed, not concerned

Keeps lazing around

Crowning the treetops

Drowning the light

And the darkness alike

That’s the fog

To onlookers

A capricious girl

A whimsical event

Written and revised between November and December, 2005.

I'm writing...

I'm just being extra critical of my writing and feeling uninspired and lame.

But that happens. And then I'll re-read things when I'm feeling better and I'll actually manage to improve a line or two and magic will happen.

In class, the memories are starting to scare me. I wrote something that made everyone sad and I was choking up when reading it! Something that happened over 30 years ago with a girl in my school. She was really mean to me. The bitch. Funny but I don't even remember the exact details and our teacher suggested to try and write about how I felt and how I handled and I guess, eventually, overcame the situation and I don't really remember. I just know that it hurt me and it affected me tremendously. The best part of it is that it made me confirm a decision about my belief system (or lack thereof) on my own. Totally independent from what I could have seen at home. Maybe I'll post it, but it definitely needs more work.
For now, I will post something about a recurring theme that I love writing about.
Fog.

Storm

The stillness of the night

I can only hear

The raindrops sliding down

the window

The clock softly ticking

The wind swiftly blowing

mad

While the pen glides

Across the paper

Trying to catch up

With the thoughts of my mind

With the feelings of my heart…

And I do not know

How to shape some words

How to write some lines

So that they convey

The inner turmoil

Of the stormy night

And yet I do know

That on the road to being

A fully grown woman

An honourable human

Many of those words

Many of those lines

Will be blown away

Will be washed aside

And there should not be

No regrets

No simple good byes.

Written on January 2006.

I need some flowers

I need some flowers

To say to myself

I’m sorry

For the pain that comes

From not knowing

What to do

What to feel

Where to go

How to deal

With life and its infinite

Questions

Many times

With no answers

I need the bright yellow

Of a jolly sunflower

The sweet, caring scent

Of a rose or a lily

To comfort myself

To embrace my

So often forgotten

Kindness

So sadly ignored

I need a bouquet

That brightens my day

That fills in for the love

That seems to be gone

I can’t look at the darkness

Of a romance so lost

Or pretend anymore

That life is a challenge

That I need to work on

I promised

That I wouldn’t doubt

Myself or my strength

Yet I’m falling apart

I just need some flowers

To remind myself

That nature and colour

Are there everywhere

As starts and as endings

As always there is hope

A blooming peony

A tulip that folds

I need some flowers

To hold and behold.

Written on November 2005

November 2005

So I posted my first piece of the new Creative Writing Course ("On Solitude") and then two pieces written in November 2005 ("Renata, our Angel forever" and "Endless"). So I was looking for one more piece to share tonight and I keep going back to November '05, when apparently life made me quite prolific... at least in my writings. I can see that I was pouring my heart and even now when I read those pieces, I tear up a little. Writing is therapy. Paper and pen or computer and keyboard are such excellent tools to just let ourselves feel and open up our hearts and souls. This is one of the reasons why I do it. This is one of the reasons why I have decided to share...

Endless

Mud in a little boy’s shirt

Sunshine on a warm summer day

Snowflakes on the frozen ground

Cold in a long winter night

Stars up so high above

Curls in a mane gone wild

Tears streaming down my face

Clouds crossing the blue skies

Trees standing so tall

Wheat stalks in a golden field

Drops in a mirror-like lake

Fallen leaves crushed on the earth

Love in my Mother’s touch

Words flowing out of my pen

Laughter in a playground out there

Joy that no one takes away.

Written on November 2005.

Renata, our Angel Forever

The sun is rising later these days. It’s past 7 o’clock by the time it hits those buildings that I can see from my window. Naturally, she adapts. She rises later too! She opens one eye, then the other, then yawns. She stretches her arms while she yawns again, then stretches her legs in a perfect yoga pose and yawns once more.

The protective instinct in her determines her next move, checking on everyone, the floor creaks a little with the small thumps of her walking around the house. We’re asleep so she stares at each and every one of us as if to make sure that we are breathing. She leans into our faces and when she feels us exhale, she seems satisfied and on to the next.

When she gets to my bedside, she sits next to me. I’m awake but pretending to sleep and desperately clinging to my beloved pillow, but I can feel her staring eyes piercing me. As if the sheer power of that stare would lift me from the bed… I try to stay still a few more minutes, but it doesn’t matter how hard I pretend to toss and turn. She figured it out. She knows I’m awake. And she wills me to open my eyes.

The moment I do, a slobbery kiss… She’s wagging her tail.

Written on November 2005.