Incredibly there are moments when time stands still. When everything that you have to do in your day moves around you like a tornado and you stand there trying to make out the details of what flies by. Today my motto was “fluid like water” and I managed to dodge the panic attacks associated normally with work related chaos. Do I work in an ER? Nope. But sometimes it does feel like one. And I used to feel guilty because I am the type of writer that could work and still write and feel like writing didn’t attach itself to the same chaos. Was I working harder at working than living? I wasn’t sure and I’m still not sure. Recently I saw a short story that I wrote, “Dear Me”, made into a film. While there was some drama related to the actual outcome and production, it was incredibly freeing to hear the journal entries that make up the short story. It was funny to see that some of those oddities about me are actually real. And valid. At the time I can’t even remember the ex (or exes) that the story was about but jeez, fill in the blank for real and you can still see just me standing there. What is this post about? I don’t know. I just had a rough day and had a different plan of coming home and addressing it. But I’m fluid like water. I found a Neruda poem I am dedicating to myself:
If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
2 Comments
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love it. it was perfect to read this today. i hope you are feeling good.
Comment by kam — August 14, 2008 @ 9:58 am
love you, kam! i am feeling happy to be feeling.
Comment by scruffdiva — August 14, 2008 @ 10:30 am