Someone

Once upon a time, there was a flutter. A beating of wings, a soft touch, a full heart. 

Then, there was flight. Full of hope and love, determination and kindness, power, and above all, fearlessness. 

After that came rain. Sometimes warm and light, with the sunshine peaking through leaves. Most of the time, hard, heavy rain, with big, cold drops and angry sky. Thunderous. At times, a rainbow came. 

The days of anger were many. Too wet, too cold, too hungry, too scared. So angry. 

Then, came sleep. Restless sleep, full of darkness and again, fear. 

What's next? 

Oblivion. 

Discomfort

The world has let me down.

Or maybe it's revenge, or payback for the abuse it receives from me and everyone else. 

But can we just talk? A worldly conversation? 

I miss the talks we used to have: me in a forest, the world on the edge... 

It's been awhile. 

I am not who I used to be. 

The world isn't either.

Except we don't know who we are anymore. Or where we belong. 

I am on the edge of the forest, scared to go out. 

Out is the world and I don't know it. 

The world doesn't know me. The world is thin. I am not. 

I go back in the forest. 

The world does not follow and I am ok. For now. 

Tomorrow is another "on the edge" day. 

Words for my daughter

Happy Sweet 16, my love! I can’t believe you are 16. I want to stop the time, to keep you little, but then I would miss all the beauty you bring to the new days. So, I won’t. I will just say this...
You are my world
The life itself.
You hold love in your hands and
it becomes the air I breathe.
You grow and with you my heart rejoices.
You are my friend, my angel, my gift.
You are 16 today.
I wish for you to be true to yourself,
Courageous,
Fair and just.
I wish for you to always learn,
To challenge yourself,
To search.
I wish for you love,
Beauty,
Strength and generosity.
I wish for you to know my love.
Always.

Ready, Set, Go!

I want an award, a ribbon, a medal

Or maybe a statue, a fountain, a bench

What for? No reason, really. Although… 

My walls are blank and I am afraid of the white space. There, I said it.

So, give me something to put on my wall, or else, I will have to paint something

And what I am really afraid of is the colors

It’s better if I just get a medal. Then, we can keep talking about accomplishments not about fear

So, I will train to run a 5k

Then, I will get a medal.

Red

The perfect cure for sadness, said someone.
Red is the word, the emotion, the light, flowing from yellow to blue;
I feel it touching my back...
I feel it in my hair...
I feel it with my thoughts...
because it's not black or orange.

If red is not orange, but white is also not black,
is red also white?

I say it is the perfect cure for colorless emotions,
for words floating without purpose.
Red captures the letters,
the words,
the phrases,
and makes them feelings.
Not black.

The roar of the lions in the hot desert of the world,
the beauty of the deepest ocean on a winter,
white day.
Not blue.

The overwhelming desire of strong arms around my soul,
the permanence of rocks,
and the softness of skin.
Not white.

Lists

Fields of wheat. I miss them.
Fields of sunflowers. I miss those too.

Yesterday, I made a checklist of my soul. Today I have to update it.
Which one should I publish? You know, as a private victory of my constant personal inquiry...

We measure. We strive. We improve.
We change.
And then, we do it all over again.

When should I schedule my living?
I'll put it on the list.

Blame

Is it a hole I see inside my heart?
Looking in, it seems deep and cold... but the hole has a beat.
Is it my heart that beats?

The rain will wash the blood off the pavement.
Till next time... Next time it rains or next time there's a hole in a heart?
Someone's else's heart. Mine beats.

These are children, butterflies and flowers.
The blood streaks them all, they are looking for the holes...
In the hearts, in the sky, in the leaves.

Not enough people... not enough guns... not enough God...
Not enough rain.
But enough holes?

Mama

Such a full word, such a joy to be.
Is it me? Or you? How about you?
A collection of souls,
The sound of heartbeats
is deafening, but beautiful.

I hear her whisper further and further.
Through the years, my eyes are filled with those
blue tears
The soft touch of her hand flows through me
like the memory of beloved shadows.

Embrace her.

The butterfly

Once upon a time there was a leaf.
Blown in the wind, barely attached to this thin, almost powerless branch.
The leaf looked around and thought...
There's a world out there, full of passion and light
Why am I here?
Why do I stay?
What if this thin, almost powerless branch brakes?
I think I may let go...


Once upon a time there was a branch.
Blown in the wind, barely attached to this thick, almost beautiful trunk of a tree.
The branch looked around and thought...
Look at all of these big branches around me...
So strong, so fearless, so bold.
How I wish I was the branch at the top of the tree,
How I want to bathe in the sunlight, feel the leaves I hold breathe.
I think I may grow...


Once upon a time there was a tree.
Blown in the wind, deeply rooted in this earth, tall and strong on the top of a mountain.
The tree looked around and thought...
So much sky around me, so many branches and leaves, all holding on to me.
How I wish I was a butterfly...
Free, light, beautiful and unattached.
What if I just give up? For years I have been waiting to be free,
for years I have wanted to fly, for years...


Once upon a time there was a butterfly.
Floating in the wind, alone, but beautiful.
The butterfly rested on this leaf barely attached to this thin, almost powerless branch,
attached to this thick trunk of this tall and strong tree.
The butterfly looked around and thought...
Finally, I am home.


The tree breathed in all the power of the earth
The branch trembled and reached out to the sky
The leaf softened and drank from the roots of the sea
The butterfly rested.

Coming Back

I have tried writting differently. I have tried being more midstream. I am back. Back to my blog about me the way I am. No expectations. No planning. just words. Colors and shapes. And feelings. Thank you for waiting.

Tata Nitu

Today I remember my grandfather. Not that I don't think about him often, but today it's his name's day. We celebrate St. Nickolas day today and today used to be his day. My grandfather was strong and kind, loving and straight forward. He was handsome and perfect in my eyes. I lived with my grandparents till I was about five. I wish i could remember every day from that time. I have images, I have stories, I have smells, but I wish for more. I wish for those years to have not have ended. I wish for my grandfather to have known my daughter. She carries his name. And I know he watches over her. And me. Mi-e dor de tine, tata Nitu.

Strange feelings

I wish I could write everyday. I wish I could connect enough with myself and with the world and that connection would be coherent enough for me to be able to express it in words. Words have always fascinated me. It may be because if I was skilled enough I could hide behind them and nobody would know who I really was. Or it may be a real desire for creativity, a way to attempt connection. Any kind.

I had an energy medicine session last week and it left me rather raw and vulnerable. I am sort of enjoying this new feeling of being exposed to the world. I am a little scared of it, but it also feels like home in a strange way. I feel like a volcano. Is it still active? Is there lava under there, waiting to errupt? How does it feel to be the people in the village at the bottom of the volcano. You never know...

I am vulnerable to the world. I am starting to see who I am. I am battling with loads of generational baggage. I am in love with the lava.