Sun to my back
Sun to my back
when the lights dim in your head
remember, if you can, my name
and if my name becomes too difficult
remember my face and my smile
and if my face becomes faint
remember my voice and my rhythm
and if my voice becomes distant
remember my hand and my touch
and when the lights go off in your head,
and all else fails
remember my love in the deeps of your silent beating heart.
‘My name is Jose. This is how it is spelled (J-O-S-E). In the Philippines we pronounce it the same way as in English (Hosay). And the Arabs pronounce it is as do the Spanish speakers (Khosay). And the Portuguese speakers, they spell it the same, and pronounce it (Josay). But all these name variations have nothing to do with my name here, in Kuwait. Here I am Essa.’
‘If I were to be like the bamboo tree, a tree of no belonging. Break a part of its stalk and plant it, with no roots, in any land. It does not wait long before its new roots break into earth. It grows all over again in a new land. It lets go of its past. It lets go of its memories. It does not even care that people have not agreed on its name – kawayan in the Philippines, khaizaran in Kuwait, or bamboo in other places.’
An adaptation of two beautiful excerpts from a beautiful book. The Bamboo Stalk by Saud Alsanousi.
i prayed for children, i prayed for the right one to have them with, you came,
I got more than i asked for – much more than I asked for.
Here. For you. The red rose.
Not as pretty as you. But it will do. I guess.
To say. I love you.
guitar string broken
that beautiful song lacking
A lost note in love
The white bird flew into the setting sun, melted into the orange and the red and the purple, sunk into the sea, vanished into the blue.
And then her cry echoed from the sky.