the Bohemian by the sea

does it matter that you can feel the warmth of the sunlight on your shoulders, the salty sea breeze in your hair, and at the same time, see the storm clouds up ahead?

does it matter that the sea holds immense sadness in its depths, and yet at the same time reflects the joy of the sun in the glinting rhythm of waves?

do these things matter? do they have a place in business? in finance? amongst skyscrapers? alongside ships that carry cargo from one place to the next?

can someone say that it is okay to honor the new and mourn the lost all in the same moment? all in the same day. can someone shout this from the rooftops and whisper it in the shadows? instead of this. this silence. this, unspoken name. this covering up with words of new.

can someone tell the masses, “it is okay to not be okay on this day.” or even the next.

it is o.k.

it is okay.

it is ok to not live in the binary. in the ‘either or’ but to let things co-exist, mash, intertwine. mix.

binary is not how it always is anyways.

it’s not how it ever was.

Take a walk on the wild side

1. Little girl, stroller, chubby cheeks, bunny hood.

2. Black cloth, slow shadow, head bowed, face dark, skinny ankles, dirt crusts.

3. Sun-lit trees, out-stretched branches, lime green leaves.

3. Bird cages, captured song, oppression-or-freedom, modernity-or-the-ancients.

4. Footbridge, light, sounded steps, rainbow reflections, faded-honey warm glow.

5. Train.

 

The most fleeting (moment)

drifts in and out. Of my mind. It’s a diagonal memory. Her smiling face – tilted, small nose, bright-eyed, her fingers, and the warmth of her weightlessness – “When are you going to wake up?”

2 minutes and 3 peanuts from now.

Laughter. “When are you going to come back?”

10 pairs of pants and 20 pieces of rice from now.

You close your eyes, and try to grasp onto…the (memory). Like trying to take hold of a cloud. You cannot –

…She grows older. On the other side of the world. Where you are not.