When I was a kid

I was always looking up for the sun,

that way I knew I was not lost,

that I have not left this town or this world,

that I was still on the ground.

One of my earliest childhood fantasy is me

looking directly at the sun,

thinking that I own it,

thinking that I had a superpower,

thinking that no one else can look at the sun

the way I do it,

the way that is right.

One of my earliest childhood memory

is me reading a ripped off child poetry book

(well not exactly reading it

cause I didn't know how)

but I knew how to remember

spoken words and rhymes,

I knew how to count the pages

and I figured it out,

how to put each poem on a page it belonged to,

based on nothing more but the shape of the verses.

One of my earliest childhood memories is of my old home,

of red and rosewood pink sofa that stood in my dining room

and of my nan sitting there,

of her reading and dozing off in late afternoons.

My grandmother died so long ago,

I don't know enough stuff about her

to hand her a poem.

I was too young. I tried.

But I knew that she was kind,

that she introduced me with the poems I forgot

and that she was a protective sanctuary from the changes around me.

Recently I would find more stuff about her,

when my mum and cousin would speak out loud,

when they forget I am even in the same room with them.

My father lost one of his parents but I can't remember him ever calling her a mother.

My mum says she wished she never passes the year 90.

She says it would be a torture.

And it all comes down onto me:

mortality is a symptom.

We are all destine for extinction and destruction,

like we are racing towards the earth from which we came.

And moments like these

is what I call a sudden sadness

and what someone might call a depression,

a hidden firework

beneath all my problems,

waiting patiently for a surprising rain.

Except its not a firework.

It's not colourful.

It's what I embrace when I am alone,

when I am near the yellow dreams,

when I am facing

Myself.

The Truth.

Change.

And its becoming clear now.

White supremacy is a wave of

torches and flags,

unleashing the hatred through streets.

The pictures of wounded, one day,

flooded my twitter page

and although I am so far away from the scene,

I felt the shift in the air.

My friend says I pout like a child when I talk about what is happening in the world.

But I am a child.

I am what keeps me alive and breathing.

Now,

now I only look up for the moon.

The sun has been too bright

I've learned to hate it,

I've learned that I have no superpowers,

learned that I got no idea of the changes around me.

I thought the eclipse would bring me some answers.

It didn't.

I can still feel the burning on my skin

as if to say:

Don't ask me something

with a quiver in your voice.

Don't ask me something

when you cover your eyes.

°°°

//August 2017//