kernel, reflections

though the fact that they were terrible did not mean that they were necessarily truthful

your fragile figure
carrying        your beautiful face, awashed with grief
going up the staircase
of a   dark       empty house
that is a home        no more
follows me       as i walk
through life
hoping        someday          you’ll come back
to us

every time i kill you,
i ask for your forgiveness

it seems that ive gotten my words from my grandma

she says life is poetry
words cling from flowers
grow with the grass
hide in the rain
come from diseases
give birth when we’re in pain
go to churches&mosques&temples praying
& they cry, dear, when we cry
you think they have no feelings?
oh,they’re everywhere,
&as we live we breath them in
&then we let them out
when we smile with all our teeth

the woman whose face i remember from somewhere

the woman whose face i remember from somewhere sat comfortably on the marble floor, against the sand-coloured stonebrick wall, one tiny curly-haired girl to her left, one tiny curly haired girl to her right. it didn’t seem that she enjoyed the music, she was more preoccupied with the tiny curly haired girls who were busy trying to catch the dancing shadows or the sparkly shoes or the red satin ones or the dancers.

a few meters away from her and on a cheap plastic white chair the very old lady who wore exactly one high-heeled shoe was swaying her chubby body, sitting next to the mad lady who goes to all concerts within walking distance of her home- without paying.

i tried to talk to her once, i followed her in the alleys behind the theatre as she exited the building but she didnt notice me and in an attempt to draw her attention i yelled ‘ excuse me, i think you dropped your ticket’ and i showed her mine but her eyes threw little flames at my smile, she produced a copy of a ticket she said ‘ this is my ticket’ and she turned her back on me, limbing, heavy with secrets she’s never told and accumulated wrath.

i saw her again at the tango concert, she didnt recognize me, she said the cheap plastic white chair beside her was taken. i sat on the steps, on the cold marble floor, next to a girl who didnt have a lighter and another who never turned towards me. she was sitting next to a girl, (woman? am i old enough for that word?} who mustnt like me- i think that has to do something with the boy i loved before the man one i love now.

the tango music changed and changed and changed and we had little history lessons and i kept looking at the crowd, stealing their moments. i always do that. i steal moments. im a moment stealer. a young woman was holding a baby up high so she could see her daddy playing and my eyes always turned to the man i love now, hoping he’d catch me watching him. he did.

the girl without a lighter left while i was busy reading people’s faces, playing the game ive been playing since my imagination grew larger than myself. then a man with glasses took the girl’s place on the steps but alas, he had no lighter and he became the man without a lighter and i then once again looked for an interesting face to unlock.

the woman whose face i remember from somewhere was vaguely there, while i got lost in the tango and the sparkly shoes sliding elegantly on the cold marble floor, she seemed lost in thoughts. her tiny curly haired girls where of course oblivious to their mother’s inability to be taken away by little moments thus they continued tirelessly to be children. my heart ached for the woman whose face i remember from somewhere.

the woman whose face i’ve loved since moment one was indeed lost in thoughts ; i could feel the pain she shouldn’t be feeling whilst listening to the magic that came off the fingers of the man i feel now. she too, has ,and has been, suffering from the inability to experiences happiness in moments. watching her being lost, but not lost in music, was excruciatingly painful but i kept watching her beautifully aged face, deliberately punishing myself for all the wrongs ive done to her. she’s mesmerizing,captivating in a way my words can’t explain, wont ever be able to explain.

as tears, my quite frequent visitors, begun to travel in my body i forced myself to turn my attention to someone else. the man in the red shirt announced they’d be playing their last piece and the very old lady and a younger lady rose from the white plastic chairs, one supporting another, and walked towards the car park. the very old lady recognised the music and my ears heard her spanish accent as she whispered ‘ il liber tango’ and i see her youth awakening, her younger self stirred up momentarily and surfaced at the edge of her eyes only to hide again as the pain of her foot thrusted.

i looked for the woman whose face i remember from somewhere but she was gone,

Paris, Beirut&everywhere

When men spread themselves over the earth, And became many nations,Speaking diverse languages,And observing diverse customs and laws,The evils became multiplied,As one race or nation Became alienated from another. The Brotherhood of Man was now doubly forgotten-First, between individuals, and secondly, between nations. Arrogance, selfishness, and untruth Were sown and reaped in larger fields; And Peace, Faith, Love and Justice Were obscured over masses of men, As large tracts of land are starved Of sunshine by clouds floating far on high.

 

the earth felt burdened by  bodies that fell     too soon
thud thud thud            sound so loud they woke me in my sleep
thud thud thud times infinite
thud thud thud times infinite equals      zero

&so it begun

the soil spat the blood into the rivers &the birds poured it back
into dried out veins            till a soft pink hue coloured burned skin
trees slid their aged trunks &offered their juices
to thousands of ants who carried disembodied limbs
while boughs glued the pieces back together           till fingers tapped on cement tap tap tap
& then heavy rain washed the streets&buildings off of their memories

no witnesses left behind

thud thud thud      the sound of hundreds of heartbeats bumping
together        all at once
echoing against the sweet murmur of people rising  chatting
all Gods     chanting
we have failed we have failed we have failed
we have failed we have failed we have               failed

 

&when night drifted into morning
Paris&Beirut&everywhere woke up to a chilly, sunny November Saturday

i jump naked into the ocean awaiting for sea-salt
to feed my open wounds hoping the feeling of belonging
will awash my fears
of constant ache where is path have i not crafted it
well have i not envisioned it well where is the future
my younger self promised to me
little fish keep biting feeding off my nothingness
reminding my alieness
eager to fit in i take a breath
plunge in
& i & the ocean become one
my blood dissolves into the blue
& i & my fears are no more
& no path is needed

ever since you left,
I’ve been putting your shoes on
figuring my body would sway the way yours did,
it would echo

the rhythm of your steps
in the piano room.
i plant herbs in your kitten heels,
trying to understand

if the weight you carried
was to heavy for your fragile self-
i
if we shared shoes

your high heels birth silhouettes
of you laughing, happy.
you were beautiful.
i walk around the house in your boots hoping the walls will absorb the noise and give it back when i need you most
when i cannot be a mother to my self
when he says
‘you’re not my mum’
and then you come crying
into my arms
asking where i bought my shoes from.

sunday 11:37

today he said
i love sundays with you –
& thus he proclaimed
his love
of me&him together
in pjs,unwashed&sleepy
in a messy apartment
laughing out loud
over the coffee stain
on an expensive couch

ήθελα να λιώσω,
να γίνω αλάτι.

μόνο ο Θεός τζε η νύχτα ξέρει.

will you
take as i am
naked

will you
shower me with stardust
pink

im cold    can you hear me
can you hear me     hey
will you
take me
in
with all my scars
this i got when i was just 15
but this hurt the most at 23
and now this dont touch!it hasnt healed

will you
take me in   kiss me softly
when i dream

will you
will you
will you
please
let me breathe?