Love at the first sight To what’s captured by senses And stays in the heart—
One beloved person called me asking why I didn’t attend a nephew’s wedding party yesterday. I said I couldn’t as I’ve been physically “beaten up” because of an accident recently. After what happened, sorry and better be careful, don’t go biking at night, wear the right shoes; she started ranting….
“What are you looking for in life? Look at your nephews and nieces getting married one by one. They wish their best wishes for you but you don’t seem to care. You’d better find one man and get married and they will attend your wedding party with all love and gifts.”
“Not my priority”, I said.
“What is your priority? Your work? Your dream? What?”
It is sometimes annoying to be a single woman in a society in which marriage is highly appreciated and considered as highway to happiness. I feel so lucky for living overseas away from those caring so much about me so I can enjoy my life the way I love to. Many of my single girl friends call me now and then telling me how tiring it is to answer the same questions again and again even when they don’t seem to have problems for not getting married. We are mentally and financially stable. 😁
“Ok, tell me I’ll find one. I know you won’t want one like your last. Tell me.”
“Sexually straight and not abusive in any way possible.”
“That’s easy! It is just you so difficult! Sometimes you just have to give up your priority or your love. I got married without love and it goes well. Many of us do and it goes well. Know that we worry about you.”
Weekend still goes well. And I’m happily looking forward to another week.
Life is a mystery, and so is love. I love my life and I don’t worry. 🥰
Gemstones, Beloved, Beautiful, shiny, precious— Mind! You’re still a stone.
When you integrate, you at the same time disintegrate. Imagine what happens before a gemstone sits on a ring: a tumble stone, cut, polished, separated from dirt and rock. Often time most part of the tumble is “wasted” for the sake of presenting a small carat of a bright semi precious or precious stone!
What gemstone are you? You might be a diamond in progress. Don’t tell, let the true eyes see the true you. Sheer beauty! Don’t take so long except you are willing to be a hidden treasure of the universe. Whatever your choice is – be true to yourself.
I want to be a diamond but I am not and so I will never be.
I am though grateful to have been created a less pricy one – it is precious to be given time to be what I am. Not more, not less, just right. I know and I accept it. 💝
Which one, Beloved? To love? To be loved? Any— As long as it’s true.
There are times when you have no choice but giving or taking; no reciprocity whatsoever. And that is when you think it is not fair although that is not necessary to think of anything as long as it is true.
When it is time to give, just give like when you enjoy good unhealthy food. When it is time to take, just take like when you enjoy the healthful bland food. Easy but I have found it challenging in some way. I want balanced give and take, good and healthful.
Life is bitterly fair. To enjoy it, be true. Be true to yourself, my dear.
Coffee, Beloved, Brings back the fragrance of breeze From the green high land.
I drink coffee but am not a big fan of it. Fragrance of raw coffee beans, coffee cherries, coffee leaves, coffee flowers, coffee trees are much more lovable to these nostrils. Last 2019 visit to my uncle and aunt’s home in Menoreh Hill has always been a fresh fragrant memory; it is because the coffee fragrance would welcome us in the morning when wind blowing down the hill through the window sills.
Along the path up the hill going to our grandparents’ graveyards these hands would playfully pull some coffee leaves or coffee cherries, squeeze them and breathe the aroma in. My cousins and nieces would do the same. We would throw them to the dogs jumping around as playful as the owners.
Miss that green high land, where my ancestors started their humble legends—
Stories, Beloved, Chronological events With no emotion She puts meanings and settings To characters in action.
I like poems loaded with love even when it is not love stories according to my friends. To me all stories are potential love stories.
I couldn’t find my left green sock and a poem about losing a beloved one was born. My kitchen lamp was blinking before switched off for good, a poem about a lover moving on after struggling reaching out to the beloved. Yet real broken heart helped me develop poems about how a heart shape blinks from white to blue to red to black before fading away.
Everything is love story between a lover and beloved. Of left and right socks. Of dark and light. Of hope and fear. Of head and heart. Of missing you and hating you. Of everything and nothing. Of me and my beloved that constantly changeable among me, you and them.
Mystery? Cheesy? It doesn’t matter. It helps me relax yet focus. ♥️
Life is all romance through these eyes. Wish that they remain with romantic lenses until life shows its true romanticism at the end of the journey—
Winter, Beloved, As white as wishes whistling Through poems and prayers.
Damascus steel cuts silk. Drips of water punch the rocks. Wind caresses the sands. Breeze sways the twigs and ushers the leaves to land on the ground. Snowflake falls one by one wrapping the ground to doze off. With eloquent silence they make things happen.
How can I say about language ….except that it is as subtly powerful as nature, or even much more with its ability to transform or transmigrate whatever is in the hands, head and heart—
Whistle to me, Winter. These ears are frozen and distant but this soul is as warm and fragrant as jasmine tea.
Monday, thank you for being nice to me. Tuesday, I know you are too. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, be, too.
Married, Beloved, To your shadow that follows Wherever I go.
Divorced, Beloved, From your doubt that hunts and haunts Wherever I hide.
One very long chat decorated a night. A childhood friend did sharing about what she had experienced when we were away for about 10 years, busy with our own life. This is her promise to tell the full story after giving hints and looking puzzled when meeting me.
She married thrice. First husband died of illness. Second abused and cheated her and so they divorced. Third one, this one has brought a lot of stories and enlightenment.
How she finally decided the third after the traumatic second has strengthened about my own lesson in life – acceptance. How she lets a seemingly perfect person be with her imperfect figure does add amazement about one of my loyalist. How she ignores words and stares from people disapproving her behaviours has told me she is still girl going foraging in the wild with me in our lively early age.
She hit me with some bitter comments about my complicated points. She ridiculed me for being so guarding and distant from risking broken heart to happen. She also highlighted how her love transforms to friendship that I would have not believed can happen to her – she is not a “friendship-friendly” type of person, she is a snapping turtle 😑
There are things she has regretted about all 3 decisions but the regret has brought her to a final realisation that her life has shaped her into a composed, mature woman strong yet flexible enough to be beautifully bent by the hardship of life. The pain pays off, she said. What a beautiful creature my dear friend is! 😘😘😘
This weekend has given me another package of lessons from our childhood. A blast from the past!
Human, Beloved, Bruised and scarred, laughter and cry. Perfect? Humane not—
Nowhere to run from mistakes and errors. The best way is forgiving the self for making (too many) repeated irresponsible decisions and moving right on. Don’t add too many fatal moves; this life has its right to be happy, too.
Nowhere. It is just here and now. Tomorrow might be an elegy.
Breathing in Breathing out The air is flowing Pumping freshness to the blood Pushing the recyclable out.
Time units are agreed. If passed, something is overdone. If missed, something is given up. If right on, moment is created.
Breath is my chosen time unit That I prudently save Between two points That I travel in.
How many will I take? I don’t even know Or how many have I taken? I’ve lost count.
It’s as accurate as your digital timepiece, Or as elegant as your mechanical winding. Our time is as precious, Yet we count with different tools.
Alas! Don’t ask me to walk faster Just because you run. Don’t tell me to stay put Just because you sit.
Life is short Yet expensive to lament If we don’t cross the path, It’s simply because of Simple word: Decision Because Fate sometimes doesn’t seem to fit. Whose decision? I don’t know. I’ll just breathe Until the sun moves in reverse.
Life’s misunderstood As blurred when eyes are cloudy. Beauty is constant Not to the eyes. To the heart It’s a bunch of what’s biutyful.
Observing the observer—
Let them misunderstand whatever about your own self as a secret is a secret that will remain mystery to those sleeping or cloudy eyes. If bright eyes can be tricked with a sheet of A4, what will a block of wall do to those cloudy?