cross culture life, teaching, writing
One life,
one life
and what to do?
Perhaps if I
had use of two,
Perhaps then I’d know what to do.
Perhaps if I
Could live with three,
Then how easy would it be.
But I have only one
you see.
Not two or three,
Just one – just me.
And so I must decide
Just what to do
With one, not three or two.
I think Dr. Frankenstein had something going with his ideas of electricity bringing life through galvanism. Though Frankenstein dreamed big, wanting to animate a body and create a human, I think perhaps he would have done better to start small, and to choose a subject somewhat less destructive.
For me, this subject came in the form of a Danish pastry. Brought on the verge of its expiry date, it was then neglected in its box, left for time to harden its once soft and supple, delicious, sugary middle. To me, this poor Danish pastry was dead, there could be no remedy but the rubbish bin. However, that was not to be. I was quickly assured by Grandma that if zapped in the microwave, its hard and dead body would soon be brought back to life and would be edible again. Sure enough, after a short time of being zapped the microwave, the Danish pasty was soft and warm, its sides easing in as if exhaling from a living breath.
It would appear galvanism is no myth. My Grandma knows of its powers.
Give me your feet
and I will wash them
Give you your mind
and I will teach it
Give me your heart
and I will heal it
Give me your hands
and I will use them
Give me your life
each part
each breath
Give me your all.
How long can I hide this boy,
This soul inside of me?
The heart that sings
that gapes at setting suns
and stays behind to watch the stars
sparkle in the night
How long will I hide?
I drag him by the hand
no time, no time
no time to watch the birds
no time to touch the leaves
How long will I hide him?
I push away
keep him quiet
in the corner of my thoughts
How long will I hide him?
And will he be there
when I go looking?
Words are a gift. The power of memory, the ability to change lives, transform minds, and give hope for the future; all these are held within words. How simple is the marrow and sinews of language, and yet how vast and potent is its reach.
Some miss the power of words. Ignorant to the strength that one can wield in the wake of the tongue or pen, they flair aimlessly. Words are a weapon; some know their power. Others hope that with enough strokes and blows perhaps the point will bludgeon its way to the hearts of others.
But for those who know the power of the word; those who know its weight and feel; words are clear. With swift and calculated movements they pierce the heart of those who listen, burrowing deep into the innermost parts, deep into the desires, hopes, fears and memories of others. These are the greats. These are the men and women that hold the hearts and minds of others in their own. These are the writers.
I am not yet one, but I hope to join the ranks one day.