I am writing all this from memory as I feel that there are some memories that you cherish always..
....You said, "For your love, I have everything."
....I smiled at your glowing face and replied, "I have everything from your love."
I listen to you, singing out loud to me, mesmerized by the sweetness of your voice...Somehow, it calms down my pain.
Relieved me from my anguish, made me sway like a damsel, hovered away all the bitter odds around me
as I swooned with the your music, my eyes filled with tears.
How is it that you hypnotize me?
....You said, "For your love, there are no good byes."
....I dried your delicate tear and said, "Don't worry, I won't leave."
I feel strange..You treasure my presence.You share my pain. You offer me your heart. It seems like a dream come true...
I wonder if you'll keep your promise.
....You said, "For your love, I have it all."
....I started to cry and murmured, "Really?"
I want to be the eternity you have; I want to be the soul that's within you; I want to be the realm of your dreams and the ground for your wishes; I want to be the heart that beats with your music; the breathes you take when you play your guitar and the smile illuminates your face...
Para tu amor...mi vida, mi sangre...
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Friday, March 27, 2009
When I looked back, she was no longer there...
I walked on the scorching road, barefoot.
It had been a tiresome walk; I kept feeling hunger pangs I couldn't control, wore nothing but rags, was first chased by the local policeman and then the ill tempered children who always threw stones at me when ever I passed the bakery and most of all, the fiery sun rays burned my feet and made me perspire so much that my shirt became totally wet.
Unable to move, I sat down on the foot path...It was so painful. Sitting where people pass by, looking at you with disgust in their colorful eyes; your helpless shadow being trampled by their unwelcome feet and you being so weak and lame to raise your voice against it all.
I looked around myself. The road was busy; the hustling traffic and pedestrians, everyone was engrossed in their own lives, their own works. No one seemed to care. No one seemed to be helpful.
It felt as if I were my only hope, my only chance.
I had always thought that no matter how different people might seem to be, in a way that some are rich, some are poor; there is a diversity of religions, colors and creeds but at least God did grant everyone one of us equal power of imagination. So I imagined...I imagined myself eating a dainty meal, served to me in polished silver; I imagined myself laughing on a mount of glistening gold; I imagined that I had a beautiful, pet nightingale which sang me glorious songs of hope and I imagined being so happy that I danced and danced.
But then, I felt hopeless. I felt as if all my skills; the powers of thinking, analyzing, conveying had wearied off... But there is always a power that remains in man even when he's about to die...The skill to cry.
So I started to cry. I forgot that there are unwanted people around, that I was in the middle of a busy lane...I kept crying.
I raised my head just a little and noticed my shadow, gently covered by another.
I turned around.
A teenage girl stood a couple of paces away from me. She was beautiful, unlike any other girls, she looked so calm and pale, so simple and elegant. Her dark hair neatly tied, tiny sweat drops dripping down from her pink cheeks; she was a wonderful sight.
She held a sandwich which she momentarily ate with such a slow pace that I wondered whether she was even hungry or not. But I kept looking at her...
I smiled...She never noticed me...
I was so hungry, I felt motionless.
I turned back around and wrapped my arms around my waist and squeezed. I'd always thought this makes the pain less excruciating. I winced and whined, and no one even bothered about me. This is the rule of the world. No one cares for none.
I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep. No, maybe I wanted to die.
And then I remembered. I never wanted to, but I did.
I remembered the ravishing, dark blood. The screams of my mother. The cries of my baby sister. The defensive moves of my father. The haste of time. The spontaneous actions of the foes. And myself, hiding in the cellar, shivering with fright and cold, listening to it all. My worst memory..My worst nightmare.
I opened up my eyes.
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
The same sounds, the same noise.
And then I remembered something else. Something a lot more happier.
But, when I looked back, she was no longer there...
It had been a tiresome walk; I kept feeling hunger pangs I couldn't control, wore nothing but rags, was first chased by the local policeman and then the ill tempered children who always threw stones at me when ever I passed the bakery and most of all, the fiery sun rays burned my feet and made me perspire so much that my shirt became totally wet.
Unable to move, I sat down on the foot path...It was so painful. Sitting where people pass by, looking at you with disgust in their colorful eyes; your helpless shadow being trampled by their unwelcome feet and you being so weak and lame to raise your voice against it all.
I looked around myself. The road was busy; the hustling traffic and pedestrians, everyone was engrossed in their own lives, their own works. No one seemed to care. No one seemed to be helpful.
It felt as if I were my only hope, my only chance.
I had always thought that no matter how different people might seem to be, in a way that some are rich, some are poor; there is a diversity of religions, colors and creeds but at least God did grant everyone one of us equal power of imagination. So I imagined...I imagined myself eating a dainty meal, served to me in polished silver; I imagined myself laughing on a mount of glistening gold; I imagined that I had a beautiful, pet nightingale which sang me glorious songs of hope and I imagined being so happy that I danced and danced.
But then, I felt hopeless. I felt as if all my skills; the powers of thinking, analyzing, conveying had wearied off... But there is always a power that remains in man even when he's about to die...The skill to cry.
So I started to cry. I forgot that there are unwanted people around, that I was in the middle of a busy lane...I kept crying.
I raised my head just a little and noticed my shadow, gently covered by another.
I turned around.
A teenage girl stood a couple of paces away from me. She was beautiful, unlike any other girls, she looked so calm and pale, so simple and elegant. Her dark hair neatly tied, tiny sweat drops dripping down from her pink cheeks; she was a wonderful sight.
She held a sandwich which she momentarily ate with such a slow pace that I wondered whether she was even hungry or not. But I kept looking at her...
I smiled...She never noticed me...
I was so hungry, I felt motionless.
I turned back around and wrapped my arms around my waist and squeezed. I'd always thought this makes the pain less excruciating. I winced and whined, and no one even bothered about me. This is the rule of the world. No one cares for none.
I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep. No, maybe I wanted to die.
And then I remembered. I never wanted to, but I did.
I remembered the ravishing, dark blood. The screams of my mother. The cries of my baby sister. The defensive moves of my father. The haste of time. The spontaneous actions of the foes. And myself, hiding in the cellar, shivering with fright and cold, listening to it all. My worst memory..My worst nightmare.
I opened up my eyes.
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
The same sounds, the same noise.
And then I remembered something else. Something a lot more happier.
But, when I looked back, she was no longer there...
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