AN EXTRACT REGARDING GOD AND HIS CONNECTIONS WITH US. “My hands, my feet, my poor little brain, my eyes, my ears, all matter more than the whole sweep of these constellations! He burst out. “God himself, the God to whom this whole universe-speckled display is as nothing, God himself had hands like mine and feet…
The idea that I could be a writer never crossed my mind as something that I could engage as my life’s work, yet, all I ever wanted to do was to read and write, but not for any specific reasons of gain or employment, I only wanted to satisfy an uncontrollable desire to spin words, to explore words, their meanings and their sounds. I enjoy words more than I enjoy eating, yet, I enjoy cooking. So you could say that…
This man was my father, a man I knew very well. A man I knew my entire life, a man who made indelible marks on the character of my life for all the years of my life, a man that I have loved beyond measure. He gave me the best of himself. A man who I was always only an arm’s length away from. This man I called Father. Pops as we sometimes called him in his later years, was…
It was only yesterday that you held me in your arms and marveled at my pouting lips, my chubby cheeks. You were enchanted by my wisps of hair and wondered why blonde, but then you remembered my mother’s bloodline and smiled; it would pass as the proper me emerge. So many years later I hold you in my arms and marvel at how fragile you had become, how vulnerable; your brown eyes are devouring…
From its perch, the pigeons see everything. Wish I could talk “Pigeon” or “International Bird”, Alas! I have only English. The pigeons understand English very well I don’t speak local Pigeonese. The rats speak and understand English but they need bribes because They don’t care who is in charge or who the real immigrants are. The rats won’t speak because they are indifferent to the situation. The street people are like the rats, jaded and despairing they turn away…
It is raining. I am not permitted to bring back the Sun. I have no power. Consider the lilies. Their beauty is power. I keep searching for my power. Consider my eyes. They have power. Their power is my joy. I keep searching. I have no power of my own source. Consider the seasons: Summer winter spring and fall. Their power is in my many moods. The power of food- How convenient. My teeth rejoice. Consider…
Shall we make a joyful noise unto the Lord? Or will we all sit down by the waters and scream? It’s no use Grandma, my then two-year old granddaughter once said when she locked herself in the bedroom and we could not get the door open because she did not know how to manipulate the complex lock. After thirty minutes of trying to walk her through the process, I lay down flat on the floor to peer under the…
Every step I take there you are, dark corners etched with fear and disillusions tongue-tied and confused; anxious my thoughts roll on without punctuation somewhere there is rhyme and reason but still no punctuation to separate my days from more days with the same timing. When he died I was shocked at the outpouring of concern and grief, and then you die and I sit here befuddled at the concept. Seems like you have turned a very different corner…