My father left a deciduous forest in my bedroom.
He left a pair of red mittens on my bed.
A compass. A church bell. An empty birdcage.
He left three jars filled with dreams. They were all my dreams. My father had been meticulously collecting them since I was four. I broke two jars already.
One day he left a boat. It had some words from a Peter Gabriel song.
Lets take the boat out
Wait until darkness
Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes
( I was inspired by canto de caza's post. Thank you, bichito. Thank you, Peter Gabriel).
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touched (my father never collected dreams for me)... I'll read you once again
ReplyDelete:::
and Peter Gabriel...
I'll write something about him...
Hermoso lo que escribes, hermosa la canción...
ReplyDeleteSaludos
Hi Trying:
ReplyDeleteI do not know that it has your way of writing, but it turns me sensitive.
Thanks for cantodecaza, Peter and you off course.
(A question for my: ¿the red mittens on your bed, they were doing game with the color of your hair?)
Tengo que confesar que carezco de sensibilidad poética: Cuando me preguntaste que que pensaría si mi padre dejara sobre mi cama una jaula con un pájarito, lo único que se me ocurrió decir fue: "¿Que quiere que la limpie?"
ReplyDeleteXD
canto de caza: Since Thursday I've had the image of you leaving objects in your son's bedroom. My father never left books or music records in my room. It moved me. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMaría Beatriz: Thank you for your visit. I actually heard Mercy Street for the very first time in the film, Waking The Dead. I think Peter Gabriel wrote it after reading Ann Sexton's poem by the same name (i think)...
Mr. Crónicas: I will give you a short history of my hair.
1. I was born with dark hair.
2. Bob hairstyle, ages 2-6.
3. Trencitas, ages 6-12
4. My mother was a fascist with my hair from ages 12-16. I had to obey. I don’t remember my hair.
5. Age 16: I discovered punk rock. Use your imagination and lots of color!
6. Early 20s: I discovered hippies, weed, and long hair.
7. Early 30’s: I neglected my hair. I was busy reading Feminist theory ( I wrote a post once about my psychologist and my hair).
8. Mid 30’s: I lost my hippie trenzas in a Mexico City metro. But a kind stranger found my trenzas in the Coyoacan/Viveros metro station and returned them to me. I fell in love with this stranger. However, I did warn him about the Aztec curse: he who finds my trenzas must spend the night with me in my hotel. Lucky for me he also fell in love with me. As a matter of fact, we married 5 years later.
9. The present: I had a very bourgeoisie bob for a while. One day, I looked at myself in the mirror: "shit, this is not me! I look like I belong in a shopping mall." Oh, the horror! So, I cut it. Now I have short hair.
todavia: I like your sense of humor. It often saves me from drowning. Thank you, VDMC!