garden

went home for the second time this year. with a handful of things to do, things to say, things to remember and things to forget.

people to meet and people to greet. rendezvous of hearts, joyful days to celebrate, surrounded by relatives and friends.

the mandates i was tasked to carry and fulfil. the assignments entrusted upon me to complete. as a second secretary, and as a restless bee. trying to make sense of it all:

how long does it take for flowers to realise that the sun is shining and that the season is right for them to bloom?

snail

that morning while walking along a wet pavement,
he gently eased a snail to the safety of a grass
with his toe.
to spare anyone passing a dirty shoe
or the pain of even a small murder.
the snail did not know what had happened
and that its life had been spared -
and might even cross the pavement again -
but a giant the snail could not see or comprehend
had given it another chance of life.

"i wondered if perhaps the same had happened
to me some time in my life
when unbeknown to me,
some thing or some one
had gently eased me to safety
with the touch of a toe."

incognita

a note written with a date mark of april 27, several years ago - which i first discovered in my late oxford days. not quite sure who it was he, victor, wrote it for.

"...turn from the wall, and shrug off your coat of many sorrows. there are a thousand smiles waiting to guide you through the coming days.

turn not to the wall, but to the mirror, for there are eyebrow lines and white teeth so perfect that you overlooked them in your search for blemishes.

when the mirror has done with you, turn to the window, for the window can look back with different eyes and find those perfections, simply because you believe in them.

in the wall you will find nothing. in the mirror, you will find yourself. but in the window you will find whatever it is you seek.

someone else is somewhere looking through a window, which could in its turn become yours. i know you will not believe this, but that someone could find you beautiful.

for love sees no plainness or deformity within the window frame, only the clarity and perfection first seen in the mirrored image of the mind..."

and he concluded that love is always beautiful.

philly

by the delaware river high tide, under the blue - yellow pointy tents,
they entertained us with breathtaking acrobat and dance.
jumping and twisting in the air, bending and stretching like cats in a rush;
in fast motion - swinging and circling in round and round and round...

welcome to the world of rainbows, monsieur deja vu.

in retrospect

fate often has a funny way of circling around on you. it penetrates the dark, frequently through a small crack on the wall, a tiny opening on the ceiling, and then, unexpectedly, its dim light shines on you, as if just to guide you to the right way while you are in doubt.

not too long ago, seeing his son rushed here and there - while temper was in the air, my father said to me that i should slow down. don't move fast. take my time. because, "what god has meant to be yours, son, no one can take it away from you."

being reminded in such a calming way, especially by a man who has been your hero since you were small - make you feel not only relaxed but also trusting in something far greater than your comprehension. and each time i think of it now, i seem to be able appreciating better the sincerity of fate in narrating its storyline and plot for me.

redefining september

it is september now
september, for many years to come
every heart's adjusting
to this strict september drum

i see ten septembers in a row
with numbers on their days
display some new conclusions
which all of us have missed

so let's drink to when it's over
and let's drink to when we meet
i'll be standing on this corner
where there used to be a street.

the way you break the silence

i like the way you break the silence, i really do. i wish the aspiration of flight taps your shoulder, and hurriedly you are here. nearer and swifter than those red-winged blackbirds nesting among the reeds of dyke marsh.

and i will relate for you a story or two, that surely will draw moonshine into your eyes.

"look! round like a tennis ball, the moon is floating up there. yellow mellow looking at my shadow - silently - as if in doubt whether to greet in english or spanish. hola! hellow!"

the potomac river flows on. a breathtaking view from the key bridge that connects the banks of rosslyn and the darling streets of georgetown. the circus of the sun, the totem tale, unfolding at the fort of washington: not knowing if we shall be around on time, or will destiny's traffic lights chain our uncertain feet to the unpaved future's street where high hopes and egos meet. yet another simple twist of fate?

soon, on days like these, summer's leaves will cease to stay green, and autumn's chills will stand at the doorstep of september. a quiet music chanted by the stars above will be played for the siblings of dawn. like a butterfly excited by the presence of nectar in lilacs, i cherish the thoughts of you and your laughters - which are like flowers valentines can not buy.