slopped-off grey clay braided into her deer-brown locks.
my mother whispered into my ear:
the very last winter, the lake was drained,
they found a pair of lady’s shoes, heels up…
before love/shelter/wealth… voices
bring vibrance, bring healing, be depth.
draws her down, down
I rode shotgun
No one spoke for miles
Passed fields of pale blown wheat
Telephone pole crosses
I can’t forget
The daydream of death
My still reflection
Dark sky eyes
Over the quick blue
And stratus clouds
Upon my window
Inside the wind
We spoke often about faith, and healing; about health and nutrition; about traditions and cultural differences; about what is beautiful in Honduras, and beautiful in the United States; and about the ugliness of politics, and the sadness of poverty. In the end you realize the more curiosity you have about a person, the more curiousity she will develop about you, and you end up with a really satisfying kind of conversation. The kind of conversation that makes you notice all the details of the person in front of you, the particularities of her face, voice, scent. In the end you realize, how different yet similar she is to you. You realize, this is the answer to so much misunderstanding and grief. It happens during a quiet night when the lights have gone out from a distant storm and so you sit at a kitchen table, lit by a few candles, and you listen and talk and share what you have in your head. In that moment, you become a part of peace and your curiosity grows.
There’s a lot one can say during the holidays (as far as wishes and resolutions are concerned) but what I think might matter most is how much time we dedicate Not to purchasing gifts, planning the future, or reflecting on the past; but how much energy we devote to thinking whole-heartedly about the people in our lives who make time/life un-wasted, divine, and unfathomably perfect.
This year I tried to capture that idea in small, but very pensive greeting cards, made as mini tributes to certain friends in my life who hold a very deep place in my heart.