Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Here is a children’s story on the power of perseverance and faith that I wrote :Once a long time ago, there was busy town called Santa Tecla. Santa Tecla was filled with big giant buses who choked out smog . It had large malls filled with department stores and everyday more and more people started to stumble into the bustling town.

Yes, it was growing at a fast pace. The problem was that as it grew, they were cutting down all the trees around there. And the earth was so dry that it was very hard for anything to flourish…almost impossible.

Pretty soon the town awoke and realized how hard it was to breathe, and they tried very hard for something to grow. But it was in vain, as the sky was choked with darkness.

Many gave up and decided to leave. Pretty soon, Santa Tecla was a dry abandoned city. They called it the Dead City for a reason.

One day, a man came about who wanted to change things. He was young and impulsive and decided that he would give things a try.

Everyone warned him that it was fool’s game and it was not a good idea to try to let anything grow there. The city was festered with disease and darkness and there was no way out.

But Roberto Mendez smiled at them kindly. He told them ” Darkness is only the absence of light my dear friends. I am going to help dispel the darkness”.

They shook their heads and realized how stubborn he was. A reporter came in and wrote a piece on him, talking about the crazy man who tried to make things grow. Every day Roberto Mendez would get up and go to a small little patch of land in one of the most abandoned part of the town. It was near a large cracked wall and a huge ruined mansion. The dirt was so dry that it seemed like concrete.

But the crazy man would just sing to the earth and tell it ” Grow, grow my beautiful land try to grow grow
We all know know
You can sow sow beautiful flowers and trees
So we can attract all the bees
And dispel the dark
and make a beautiful park

People would come from all over to laugh at him. He would water the land but it seemed just as dry as before. ” Even if he does manage to get that little tiny patch of earth  to grow things what would be the point? The town is filled with concrete, the darkness in the sky will always continue”.

Time passed. Roberto continued to rise every day and water that dry patch of land. He would never despair if he saw no results. He believed with all his heart that it would happen. He would smile up to the sky and pray for the rain to fall.

One day, a 12 year old girl saw Roberto happily working on the dust.  Her name was Diana. Diana was small and kind and did not like it when people would come and point and laugh at Roberto.

She would watch him closely everyday. She even would sing along to his strange little song. One day , she saw a water can that her grandmother had abandoned. She grabbed some orange seeds her grandmother kept in a box and ran to Roberto with them.

She told Roberto ” Tell me, everyday you see no results yet you continue to water the land. Why do you persevere so much?”

He smiled and told her ” The sun is in the sky even when there are clouds. The ground still has dirt even if it is dry. We must always continue to try”.

She smiled at him and felt the ray of sun shine through her giving her strength. She felt that God had given them this gift. “We are the first people to accept this challenge, but soon there will be others, and they will continue the work long before we are gone…”

One day, the dirt became browner in color. The next day they were able to plant a seed in the ground. It was but a tiny seed yet they kept watering the seed day by day. The next day they planted another until they had a lot of tiny little seeds in the patch of land.

After awhile, Diana’s friends came to help and learned from the way they watered the ground and tried to do the same thing near where they lived. Little by little, patch by patch the land started to grow.

The reporter Mr. Fuss Bucket came back after many years of being away. By then, Diana and Roberto were older but they had a large group of people helping them . The garden was becoming large with big and powerful trees. Always the cynic, Mr. Fuss Bucket asked them ” How can you be sure we won’t make the same mistake again?”

Diana and Roberto told them ” We can’t really. We will never really know. The important thing is , mainly that we try  and we keep trying. And we share that learning with others ” Diana looked down and patted the head of a small boy that looked a lot like her.

The sun was setting. The clouds were begining to leave and you could feel the air was sweeter. The fruits were starting to show and Roberto gave them the quote of Abdul Baha once again :

The wise man does not work for the present moment but for the good results of the future. See in the winter how bare and lifeless the trees and plants seem, without leaves and without fruit. Suppose one should pass by at this time who knew nothing of the condition of the earth and saw a man ploughing it up and casting grain in the furrow. Would he not say, “How foolish this man is. He is troubling himself for no result, working for no purpose and wasting that which would give him food”? But in due time the showers descend upon the earth, the sun shines, the breezes blow and we see the result in great beauty and production. So is the work of the Holy Spirit in your hearts. The earthly sun is like the Sun of Truth; the rain is the shower of the mercy of God; the seed is the word of God; the air is the fragrant waves of His Holy Spirit and the soil is the hearts of the people”

As time passed, different people started to grow in their garden , and then dispersed the seeds in other places. It took a long time, but Santa Tecla became green once again.Image

Unity and Love
Illustration by Maryam.

Lately, I have been pondering on the concept of time. Sometimes time itself, the idea of lost opportunities can cloud our vision. At times we feel compelled to live backwards, at times it i
imprisons us in schedules, meetings, deadlines and due dates. Time can constrain us and limit us but it can also cause a certain amount of organization to our life. Time is slow when you are young but scarily goes quite fast when you are old. Time slows and thickens our eyelids. Time can also make things seem better in hindsight.  

Time can encapsulate a certain moment. When you hear a song, smell a certain aroma , when you feel a certain shoe. There you are whooshing back to the time you put on your favorite jacket freshman year or the way you looked as the moonlight spilled out on your friend’s faces.

Time is also a mirage. There are things which surpass time, like our Spirit, and God and love. Love can only deepen with time , even if it is no longer the same kind of love we had before.  If we truly love something it goest with us when we die… where time doesn’t really exist anymore. 

Our concept of time can also be different from culture to culture. How quickly we lead our lives, how much we care about losing time, how much of a time span goes from one thing to the next.  Sometimes, it can cause cultural misunderstandings.

 

Somehow, in this day and age we have become impatient. We measure things in term of how fast something is, how it takes less time it is somehow efficient. We can no longer sit through the movies that our grandparents used to watch which had a slower pace. We cannot possibly wait more than one minute for a song to download.  And this impatience, this anxiety becomes something that imprisons us.  We no longer are able to just live, rest , breathe. Drink in. Something is always in the way , we find that life has to have some meaning, or something has to be done to pass the time.

I spend too much time waiting, too much time trying to not be bored. I spend less time efficiently than I should.  I grow weary of the grey hairs on my head and think about time past.

We are strong with Time. We use it selfishly, only with the things that matter to us or our loved ones. We use time to be responsible. But very rarely do we use time to do things that benefit people other than ourselves.

And we try to barter with time, we try to stop time we try to steal time. We try our best for others to make time for us. We make time for what we love but we make excuses to make time for what we hate or are afraid of. Giving time to someone you love is the best and most precious gift.
People tell me they don’t have time to read. For that I say, I make time to read while I wait in line, while I am in the bathroom and the bath. I read in the car, I read in the train and in the airport and airplane. I read before I go to bed. I read because I make time for it. Because I love it.
The most painful thing is when we can’t love someone enough to make time for them. I wrote this poem about a boy who could never make time for me, so I stole a second of his time. I wish I had known that I was worth more than a second. In the end, time belongs to no one but God ( if you are religious) and the universe.

( this poem was originally in spanish and flows better in that language sorry!)
The Stolen Second

” If I had the power”
I wondered on a blue striped day
I would rob all your time
I would put you in a universe
Where you exist everywhere and nowhere
And your time would be only mine.
( It was originally in spanish so it makes more sense like that)

But you would be able to come sing unto my windowsill
But if I robbed your time
How could I know how you extend your wings
How could you distinguish the pulsating colors ?
The sun would not paint your song
This is selfish, it is not you
No that time is not mine, but yours..

In a restless night by the moonlight beam
I had a wild solution
I would steal a second
Just a second
Which is yours, only yours.

A little speck,
That second to be placed in the most hidden secret balcony
And in the secret of my secret I would keep it

That second
So that you would not forget me in the universe
A fragment , a thread
Half a note of a song

Would you feel sadness over it’s loss?
Or the business of life would make you unable to remember
Beloved, treasured second
For it is no longer yours, but mine

A second containing the salt
And the breezes of memory
Nostalgia’s perfume
Experiences , sadness
Thinned wings in the infinite cosmos
A voice in the crowd
High tide, low, tranquil turqouise
Chaotic, undefined , perpetual
Molded, transformative
And inside, so inside when you see it
You can feel
The taste of melancholy
The frenetic energy
A song of the soul
Because it is not just yours, but mine

Just one second,
Writing blunder inconsistencies
No direction
With no known knowledge
Big impulsive solid heart
Palpitating in a perpetual rhythm
Constructing experience in marble towers

Second, beloved second
I sang you songs of time
So that you would not mourn the loss of your brothers
But it useless… in vain..
That second… what second?
It disperses like feathers
Because it was never mine, but yours

That second, small second, fragile second
That dies like an orchid
Without being able to feed itself with your memory
And your spiritual battles
And the launch of your neurons
And the beating of your heart
Time does not freeze…
It dies indistinct, in shadow.

And it’s ghost, that flies into the stars
To the cusp of the universe
Because it was never mine, or yours,
It was always of Another

It becomes something else,
That transcends the wall of time,
As the drum of it’s beat is heard
The most secret of secrets
Is enveloped inside a sacrifice
Phoenix, of a sweet voice,
That stretches to the sky, Venus,
Escaping in dreams,
IN laughter,
In the infinite waves

And in that second another is born
And another, and another, and another
Life without life
Stars of the same Sky
The Beauty reflected in a soul
Divine Eternity
United
The cosmos without cosmos
Because the end has no end
Because it was never mine, or yours,
It was always of Another.

Enjoy this RSA animate cartoon about the secret powers of time which inspired this post.