Things of Life

Atunci am plâns fără lacrimi, Am strigat mut în hăul ce se deschisese In mine... împietrita...  Ceva m-a-mpins și te-am văzut așa, Cum ai cotit-o spre ultimul tău drum... Mi s-a parut chiar ca ti-ai mișcat capul În bucuria de a mă ști aproape, In geam ca o papusa... Cerul neașteptat s-a rupt, Si fulgi de nea cadeau pe fata ta. Totul plângea... Iar tu aveai un zâmbet larg, Si ma-ntrebam: De ce sa ninga pe fata ta...? Nu te-am urmat  Sa-ti spun o vorba de plecare, Sau sa te-ating în ritual deșart, Ca sa ma-nchin...nu mai știam... Discurs, o pălărie neagră... eu? Cuvinte de plecare n-veam noi-- Spațiu și timp nu existau. Entre nous pas, entre nous pas ...

Love does not come easy. People do not love other people easy.  I do not even reflect on the scenario when you feel an attraction for someone, generally for a person of the opposite sex, and love-like feelings get precipitated.  I am thinking of love like a combination of liking, care, and acceptance, towards a simple being that is very different than you. This feeling comes harder.  Loving comes with knowing. So, love may come layer by layer as you get to know the person/being, and in a portion of time you may notice something of a certain consistency.  If you succed in loving, you may feel at one point that the heart is covered in love like a garden in the first snow...  Seasons come and go, but can you keep that pure blanket over...?

     I hardly remember that boy. I can only see a figure without a face or name. And the story itself-- I am so far from it-- that I'm wondering if it's truly mine... But it is...      He came with his dad in our town from the capital city, probably during a break, or something. His dad-- a good friend of my father. Their visit was associated with an increase in my mother's collection of leather bound books that I used to touch with some reverence, and get excited about written words...      I was very young, maybe first grade. I can say this because I have a memory of my empty room, with just a plain bed and a couple of boxes by the walls. I know that my parents furnished my room when I was in second grade.      The boy was my age I would say. He had lost his mother and was taken care of by his father and an older sister. Although I knew his mother had passed I asked him about her just because I wanted to hear from him, how he...

     "I need to live my own truth," she said announcing that she is no longer a girl, but a trans man. She asked nicely to be addressed with he/ his/ him because it would be disrespectful otherwise.       Unfortunately, as I write, I cannot align with her wish; I still use feminine pronouns when mentioning  her because--it dawned on me--this is my truth at this point. Her simple request for different pronoun usage is not as simple as it seems; it's basically asking people to deny their own truth because she wants  hers.      The fact that I know her personally makes me pause and ponder. I have met trans people before, but  perhaps due to disconnection, I moved on quickly. I know there is a struggle on their part, though... I stop a little just to imagine her situation and try to understand... So, how is it to not be comfortable with your biological sex, and the way you look...? I may speculate in an attempt to answer... ...

     In copilărie omul isi pune cărămizile destinului fără să-și dea seama.                                                                          *       Maga mi-a intrat în sânge. Ni se punea câteodată pata și ziceam:      " Hai sa facem curatenie..."       Dar cum făceam noi curățenie? Scoteam toate catrafusele afara și incepeam de la zero cu aranjatul.       Mama îmi mai zicea:      " Fata, nu așa se face curățenie, nu trebuie neaparat sa scoți totul afara..."        Dar ce sa zic... era sentimentul plăcut de nou început. Un fel de tabula rasa . Măturam și udam cimentul fără niciun obstacol în cale și apoi ne gândeam cum sa mai așezăm lucrurile. Chiar o exaltare... micile feme...

     "I saw your purple twilight glow. Your shoulders were on fire. Such intensity was like a scream. The scream of let go -es, and  hold onto -s. Not only it was the end of a day, but the end of a full year. I was startled. Time stands still when surprised and pausing. You get inside a certain capsule and detach from ordinary life, and soar. Then you enter the Dream..."      "I listen. I gather words like sand. One day somebody may shuffle the sand and drink them..."

     M-am trezit de dimineață și am luat-o la alergat.      Parca am prins lumea de picioare, am tras-o afară de sub plapuma nopții, si am îmbrățișat-o.       Soarele, copacii, marea, pământul, erau la locul lor și-mi ziceau ceva de bun venit.       Aleg viața.       Las moartea în pace, și lucrurile ei...       E de ajuns omului ca o sa vină intr-o zi, dar poate va veni noaptea, și pe nesimțite o sa trecem din somnul mic în cel mare...     Ideea e, cum zicea cineva, sa pleci din lumea asta tânăr, și cât mai târziu...Ca sa ai o buna înțelegere a ei și sa o fi apucat bine. Și sa o lași ușor apoi...