Sunday, January 1, 2012

Turning 26

Sometimes I feel that I am part human and part made of some forgotten allegory, perhaps a trick question a bored traveler discovered or a delicate move in a chess game. Instead of growing up and getting sucked into the serious, responsible task of adulthood I seem to drift along… a torn wing caught in a gale at times, at times a still piece of sky reflected in a pool or in a child’s eye.  Some days back I woke up imagining that my insides had turned into clouds, another day, three of my imaginary friends brought the rain clouds into my city just for me. Today, for some obscure reason, I am filled overwhelming gratitude to everything around me, the cobwebby posters on the wall, the clock whispering to itself, the soft glow of the monitor and the inky night outside. I have lived another year, I turned 26 today and somewhere in the vast universe strange things are moving, shifting their position and softly singing just for me.

Picture: Drawing ink on paper.


Anonymous said...

you ask me in times like these why my eyes are welled up?

when something that was once beautiful has managed not to yet perish into strangeness; when everything else has turned away or 'moved on' into forgetfulness. what else do i do when presented with this resilience. the nimbusness of being cloud. what can one do in times like these except bleed inside and smile. and yes i am singing softly for you. so softly a stage whisper barely audible to only complement this delicate silence: sit by my side, come as close as the air.. (thz the phil ochs' song 'changes')

thank you for this stillness. and the delightful damselfly sketch.


mikimbizi said...

as close as air... :)

Zlaek said...

I love this... thank you for writing it