Within & Without

In 2015, I wrote for my father; I stood on that cold stage, clouded with strange air, scrubbing feelings that drifted into the beyond without an answer.

I don't think anyone could ever come to terms with losing a parent, it is one of life's wicked certainties, you know it's going to happen, you fear it happening, you pray it won't happen; not too soon, never too soon, yet no pleading is ever enough to prevent it from happening.

I still have lingering questions, I still have stilled-conversations that I do not wish to have with anybody else, but it is not up to me anymore, that door is closed shut in-front of me.

I do not get to share my growth; the growth he always encouraged and celebrated (no matter how small it was) I do not get to share how far I have come.

Is that fair? 

My words arrange themselves only to come out upside down. Perhaps I am upside down.

I miss my father.

I am in-need of my father.

I wish I could, again, call back all the stolen moments I tried to squeeze-in with him, back when his laughter was alive in-spite of all the pain.

This time, I want them back for me. This time I want to have them, just for me.

God. 

At times like this, I think life -with all its sour fruits- is vanishing inside of me, I think it is drowning parts of me, I walk into a room full of my loved ones and I am quiet. I silence my own voice, sure that no one could truly fill this void. 

Letters (pt. 1)

My love,

Trace my body & find your way home

My sister warned me of the wicked weakness of women who apply longing like a cheap fragrance to their skins.

Her exact words

She said men claim to want everything but really mean nothing; all in the same breath.

Men twist themselves into the shape of a dream just so they can steal a taste of a gorgeous beauty; half-turned; men leave you, betray you, all before wrapping your love in an old rag to stretch desperately for the cold lonely nights.

I saw the depth of love on my father's eyes whenever he spoke about my mother, life exposed it's sweetest fruits whenever he spoke about my mother, gratitude finished each & every thought whenever he spoke about my mother.

I believe people travel half the world to find a familiar comfort; a comfort that is as generous as a stream of a river-calm. I believe my father was broken when he met my mother, I believe he carried gloom long-settled in his heart only my mother would know about, I believe the sun rose for him, one day, as if to say; you never once suffered a sad fate, and a page of his past was turned forever. 

You are a hopeless one

Her exact words

My sister believes men only know of intimacy when they have their hands trapped so deep inside a woman's throat to stop her from leaving. Marriage is fast-falling every time you try to climb-out; you grow quieter, smaller, darker with every climax.

I... 

I try to cut off the weeds, but... I am entangled. 

My love, 

Divorce is no stranger to my vocabulary, I have summoned every piece of advice only to slip under. The women in my family lock grief in a distant room, and every night they part to greet it; every night they lay it bare, mold it in dry thoughts and a heart chilled out of its own emptiness.

The women in my family are all shrinking of bitterness, once as vocal and expansive as the rushing waves, have all knit their lips shut. 

Hush. 

Silent. 

I... 

I am scared of this silence.

I watched my sister swallow her weight in-agony on her first night, I watched my family watching her being smoked into ashes before their very eyes, I watched destiny cry her name over & over & over again before marking a place for her with the stars. 

My love, 

The battles fought in the name of love ache in the pages of my memories, yet, there are no doubts that could ever interrupt a moment standing in-between us; for the branches of your affection that gathered me like scattered drops of rain; I know it's you... & only you who can contain me.  

There are days where I am the pink clouds shaping love-letters, and I am so close... so very close to uncovering the veil, other days I am reduced to the mere distance, the wanting and the tattooed stories I keep trying to scrub off... to demand my love be true, to deny every spit-out pessimist view. 

My love,

Forgive me... 

For, I am still learning

How to trace my body 

To find my own way back home.

Haze

she said:

i know what it's like to love; to wish something into existence, but, my dear, the earth will survive a thousand wars before it learns to conceal you from pain, & allow the skies to wrap you in soft symphonies.

i am sorry for the great grief you carried alone; the grief dumped down your bitter bones.

i am sorry my child.

once upon a time; once upon a wandering light of a twilight that visits me in the shape of a dream; a dream that places itself upon my body, to govern & cover me.

i talk to your father then...

i talk to your father & he asks about you, almost immediately, i tell him of the sort of beauty you've grown into, he sighs into the unwilling air.

do you miss us?

i ask in shivers.

in every corner i've planted a lonesome prayer, to echo from the gates of heaven, i am here. i will always be here.

he answers, watching me drift back into sleep.

Daring Darling

Soft tulips are growing beneath

My tongue

Tenderness is the only politics I believe in

Wash me in

The smooth waves of a pale sunshine

Forgive; the self

Forget; the hurt

Surrender into the body
This is the folding of shadows

This is the rolling-out of bright colors
The proud colors

This is the singing out loud
& out of tune

This is the blooming of love
Inside
&
All around
The tired bones

Letters (pt. 2)

my love,

mother sobs on the phone
curls inside a single bed
of fatigued prayers
with a tongue
half-eaten with regrets
& apologies like dry leaves
shuddering
an empty street

my love,

sister came by the house
& prepared a bath of rosewater
buried me within the softness
of her touch
washing & weaving
my body
my skin
my pit
of purple blackened blood
i heard her weeping
my name
in a hidden breath
of sadness

my love,

the sky is pouring
all the cries i held back
my mind dissolves me
into strangers'
stretched glances
lurking from the outside
anger penetrates me
so cruelly
anger is burning me alive
i am alienated
in-between
& anger alone remains
for me

my love,

in intimate nights
i collapse
into violent devotion
& i write letters
cursed with
denial
come back to me 
come back home to me 

To My Brother / A Thank You

my brother's bursts of laughter
were like water bottles
to a heavy grief
he who carried
the lives
and rescued joy
from the ruins of skeletons
i wish i knew how to thank him
for the words
falling
like discolored confetti
in an empty room
i wish i knew how to thank him
for the prayers
soaked in tears
no one knew about
for the prayers
that sheltered me
the ones
he prayed for me
i wish i knew how to thank him
for standing, like the earth;
tall & bearing
each moment
collapsing over his shoulders
with the
salt & bitterness of an ocean
i am sorry
for leaning so hard
for sprouting away from you
from our mother
forgive me
i never learned to say thank you
for saving me 

The Promise of Home

I thought I heard the sound of the rain sobbing, in faithful trust I stood to hear the whispers settle in the night;

'This is only a paragraph, darling, written upon a page you can turn, sometimes darkness is other people who fill our lungs with the mist of loss

You can not dedicate yourself to hungering emptiness; this hole in your stomach, not a drop of the ocean will ever be enough for it

But the longing for God is wet upon your tongue, sobering, sobering you for the life that is yet to come.'