I don’t know what to say

There is blood being spilled. Limbs are being cut. Men, women, children, loved by someone are having their lives taken away. This is all happening in the East of Congo. I left pieces of my childhood in that area. Haunting memories that would go on spilling ink as long as I breathe.

I am on this side of the Atlantic, more closer to Japan than to Congo. I want to send parts of me over there to make this nonsense stop. My extended family is scared but safe for now, but who knows for how long.

Petitions like this are being made to the American empire on behalf of men and women who just want to have a normal life. Nothing fancy, just some peace to work, study, pray, eat and love.

All I can think about this last week is that this can’t go on, so I will take this new journey one day at a time…


We met some Aliens on our way home

I see men walking backwards
Leaning to the side
Leaning on their women
Hoping to close the gap on their sides
That God had opened up from the inside out
Now I see them step their life away
Knocking the Earth looking for the exit
They escaped from
Searching for the wind that carried them into existence
They place pyramids, castles and towers to pinpoint entry points
They built metallic horses and metallic birds to dominate the Earth
They put metal, brick, wood, gold, silver between themselves afraid of skin contact
Confined beings in confined bodies living in confined spaces
Afraid of the open space and the unknown territories of their hearts
They lost their words but kept their tools
They only talked when naked
They kept themselves in women’s made cocoon while waiting
Eating and waiting
Drinking and waiting
Singing and waiting
Dancing and waiting
Loving and waiting
Sleeping and waiting
But once in awhile they found gestures of hope to share among themselves
Little fires to warm their cold hearts in the winter of their lives
They would then become treasure hunters
Searching for the glow of Life
That kept their limbs moving even
When inside the clock had stopped ticking.
They knew then the whereabouts of happiness
They could give its approximate measurements to the first one who asked
But they had lost their eyes when they found it
And few were who could trust blind men giving directions
So they sat at the corners of streets holding signs reading: Life’s directions for free
Children stopped their parents to ask them about the blind men
Parents pulled their children closer and refused them what they didn’t want for themselves
The glow of Life shined in the orbits that used to house their eyes
Their lips refused to let go of the smile they found when they encountered Life
their touch reminded people that they were eternal
While their hugs brought grown men to tears
Babies and toothless ancient women always stopped by to greet them
Asking them about that faraway land we were all spoken into existence
And for which we tirelessly try to return one day.

Fire through the rain

sometimes rain falls under the Sun

and all you get is a rainbow

colors of fire that shine through the rain

and for a moment you are there

light, whole, full, entire,

then you hit the ground again

but you remember to keep you head in the sky

even as you walk the Earth.

Colors of fire shine through rain

While I shoot for the sky

I lift my arms to hug it

And hang my face to dry

As the wind blows past me

I shake all the lost feelings

And remind them that stars are watching

You can’t stop now

You can’t stop yet

Pray the Heavens for your wings

To carry you over and through this storm

I know it is still dark

But birds will sing the morning into coming

So listen

Forget your sleep and your scars

It’s time to paint your future

Just look at the rainbow

As the colors of fire shine through rain.

The fall

she was one to fall exquisitely
her eyes held the abyss with a firm and strong grip
locks of her hair danced with the wind
like a war flag waving at souls on a battlefield
she wasn’t one to dig a grave and not sleep on it
so she cleaned herself up fro head to toes
made madly and deadly love to her one time lover
pumped perfume to tease the god’s nostrils
took her rocking chair to sit in the gap between Life and Death
while her skin entertained her parting soul with musical threads
she made avec le chant de l’hirrondelle
the hands of time couldn’t hold her any longer
she had made enough space in herself
to set her own timeline
just the flicker of a second
enough time to delight
in her last breath.

artwork by Sarah Geneblazo