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| Would You Know Me?
There are so many of us here.
So many voices to be heard.
Whispers
shouts
screams.
Chronicling love
won and lost.
Begging for help,
for understanding.
"I'm fat."
You are beautiful.
"I'm pregnant."
You will find new love.
"I'm so lonely."
There is support.
"I need more."
Find peace in what you have.
We all need.
We all want to
be heard.
To be seen.
But only here
do we give that
chance.
Would you know
me if you passed me
on the street? My
face, maybe.
Me? I wonder.
Would I know you?
All of you who
seek the same
comfort that
the images,
the writing
gives.
Who are we,
outside this realm.
Who are we
day to day.
Amid the muck
of reality.
The girl sitting
next to you on
the bus. The young
man crying as
he walks. The
new mother.
The struggling student.
Would we know each other?
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| Reclaiming What I thought I Lost
I go to Vancouver as often as I can. The novelty of the city has yet to diminish. In fact, with each visit, I find something new to ponder and marvel at. Usually it's an intriguing building or an amusing group of people that can set my mind going. From one instant, I can spin stories for hours as I wander aimlessly.
However today proved to be different. It was Mother's Day, and so I went to Vancouver to spend the day with Mum and my sister as they live in the city. No wandering, just hanging out. Initially, I thought that I wouldn't be able to really come up with anything of interest. The family stories are wonderful, but familiar.
And so, nearly six hours later, I had to head home. Head back into suburbia. It was hard not to be disappointed at the missed chance to wander. And then it hit me as I turned on music that I haven't listened to in nearly two years.
Suddenly, as I walked to my bus stop, I was pleasantly tossed back to endless summer joy. Days when it was too hot to wear anything but a bathing suit. Lazy days when the barbecue was the only cooking tool needed. The smell of the field near my home at the time; the grass drying out, but the moisture in the air letting life linger. Te sound of laughter, as my parents laughed together above the sound of innumerable fans. My younger sister's giggle as she ran through the sprinkler. All of this beauty brought back through music.
I need to go through my collection again, and see where it takes me. I will stop relying on the external. I have my memories. I have my stories. That is the only inspiration I need now.
I have found something I lost long ago.
That child's sense of adventure.
I will not let go again.
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| One Day
Dancing in the rain,
you told me it was
too cold. I danced
anyway.
You were right.
The smell of the
air. Excitement thick,
trapped between buildings;
the City that is UBC.
I told you of
my dreams as we
walked to the concert
grounds. How I wish
to one day be
free to dance along
the paths of the campus
and embrace the knowledge.
There is life here.
Dreams and memories.
Art and adventure.
All on the way to see a
show.
All while
dancing in the rain.
Even if it's too
cold to see the
final song.
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| Treasures I Found
As I have mentioned before, I have been helping my Mum and sister move. I haven't lived in their house for over a year now, and they only just started the moving process just a couple of months ago. Given this, through boxes and mountains of 'stuff' some treasure have been found. Among these is an elusive book in my family.
The Black Book.
The publication that my family owns is a rare 1946 edition, published in the States. I was given to us by some old Jewish friends about thirty years ago. My family held onto it, but through the chaos of the years, it went missing for a period. Now, I am the family bibliophile. My personal collection of antique books is worth a pretty penny, though I can't bring myself to part with them. The Dickens in particular. At least until I stumbled across this gem. This nightmare of history.
Compiled by the Jewish Black Book Committee, it as a compendium of the atrocities committed by the Nazis during WWII. There are newspaper clippings, and political documents, as well as first hand accounts of what happened to the Jewish people. It documents tragedies that were so commonplace under the Nazi Regime.
It wouldn't be until 1948 that a few other countries would allow the publication. After that, it wasn't until the late eighties, and finally 1991 that publication was allowed in the Eastern European countries. Given this, I really wish I could know the value of this piece beyond its history. I would never part with it, but to just know would be amazing. It really is a treasure to me.
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| Part 3: Cairdeas (Friendship)
Willing to accept
tears and unstoppable
laughter devoid
of reason. That
glimmer of hope
on days when it's
too hard to smile.
A group you
can always call
when you need
food, a giggle and
hours of conversation,
The silent understanding
that the bond needs
no physicality. The
knowledge of security
in a smile.
Able to talk
to write or text
at any hour of
the day, and
be able to devote
hours to tell stories.
Unwaivering regardless
of distance, time
and circumstance.
Friendship is reciprocated
appreciated, and
necessary. It is the
bond that forms
through likeness
through difference.
Friendship is the final key.
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