When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


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Youth and forgiveness

A car drive — a long time ago. That feeling of death around me, of tears that do not want to leave my eyes, of emptiness. Numbness, youth, and a highway. A relationship died and I went for a ride. A relationship died because I called it off. I returned the ring, destroyed the dream. The stereo played the CDs that we adored. “Don’t you cry” came next. A tear slid down my cheek, followed by tears showcasing the sadness of hurting him, while hurting me. Don’t cry! — I insisted as if my voice would stop my emotions, my despair.     A young love ended and marked our separate destinies. I moved far away — a thousand kilometres north. We did not talk for three years, until that night. The night we both cried. Our paths had changed… He bought a red rose for me. We hugged while our tears blended into a single sorrow. We forgave each other, we forgave ourselves. We kissed good-bye and parted ways. I wish him well, he did the same. That is when I knew it was really over.     I smile when I remember the magic of our love and youth. I can almost cry when I remember that part at the end. The passion and the despair. The tenderness, the promise, the impulsiveness, the confusion, the separation, the broken fairy tale. An innocent love that now lives forever, immaculate, as in a dreamlike world in our memories. We do not talk anymore. There is no need — the innocence of the memory remains pristine. We did well. Perhaps the tears taught us something. Perhaps it was our destiny to be happy in each others absence.

Eternal innocence — late
spring memory of a tear
Forgiveness and two paths


_____Adriana Citlali
II-V-MMXVII

Haibun Monday: Tramps like us were born to survive… | dVerse

Today at dVerse, we are writing classic haibuns about singing along with music while driving. I haven’t been driving for a while, so I played some music (old favourites) and looked into my memory box. I found that first love story, that first closure. A past that makes me smile, a past that makes my heart remember bliss and ache as if they could blend into a single feeling.



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Inside

Memory cave Tangolunda Bay, Huatulco, Oaxaca, México ©Adriana Citlali Ramírez, 2014

Memory cave
Tangolunda Bay, Huatulco, Oaxaca, México
©Adriana Citlali Ramírez, 2014


The entrance to the past is here. What’s inside? The snake that once enchanted you? Will it bite you this time? I wonder if its venom will evoke colours and visions, or just pain. Maybe the past will show itself as it was meant to be. Memories trapped in oblivion might be relieved. Were they good?
Is past worth traveling for?      –Close  your  eyes…

The memory cave
lies on a sandy beach
… awaits pristine

 

_____Adriana Citlali
I-III-MMXVI

For Haibun Monday #8 | dVerse.


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The memory at the end of the wind

There is an ocean at the precipice of your desired amnesia   
   Ready?   

Take the step
                    JUMP!     Surprise the water
Forget it all
             Can you?

Can those waves clean selected echoes inside your head?
Will they remove the memory brought by the wind?
       The one that hit you like a hurricane
          woke you up from false numbness
       The one that provoked you to move again
                         to see the morning sky
                         to feel the breeze on your face

Granted, it brought you to tears

It has that effect on me
but I cherish it nevertheless
Isn’t it reflecting the good times as well?

Do you really want to stop?

Then jump
                    JUMP!  JUMP!     Surprise the water
Forget the wind
                              your past
& us


_____Adriana Citlali
XIX-I-MMXV

Written after Kerry’s prompt at Imaginary garden with real toads.


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A fantasy sorta story: It is dangerous to walk a dream

The old man strolls the moon     
without any reason     

Sometimes he stops     
to wonder why he walks     

On occasion he forgets the pace
and finds himself running in circles

Some circles had been run often
They are now deep and quiet

He rarely strolls the imaginary dark side
     –empty brightness can be bliss

But today he drew a raven in a crater
that cannot be seen from Earth

A shadowless bird flew around and left
The old man cried alone

His heart wants to draw that memory again
A painful illusion      (ephemeral silhouette)

He shall stroll once more
             with hazy reasons

The old man cries alone

_____Adriana Citlali
VI-VIII-MMXIV

Today at dVerse, we got a set of possible characters. The goal is to write a story in a poem with some of them. The story can be a bit of a fairy tale or fantasy. Mine is something in that bit…



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The fractures of a fallen bridge

 
Sharp mind-aches control his day      
The sway of a woman is to blame      

Her memory hugs his hand      
         infiltrates his amnesia      

    Dry skin absorbs that memory
(like a sponge in the touch of water)
   until it reaches his broken limb

Those eyes sink in the absence
of an exhilaration twice stolen

Despair reaches his bones
It fractures her spirit
       It opens his eyes

She is on the same rocking chair
      misinterpreting the mess


_____Adriana Citlali
XX-IV-MMXIV

 

The Sunday Whirl … Wordle 157 ~ a baker’s dozen

The Sunday Whirl … Wordle 157 ~ a baker’s dozen