Thursday, 26 November 2009

That I loved you

That I loved you | for all the things | that others choose for | not loving you | for your moody fixations | for your childish irritations | for your fistful monologues | and the joke repeated for a thousand time | like the endless rambling | about the girl who sounds dumb | when she talks incessantly | with no direction | or when you complained too much | about the man who complains | that is all too much | or when you laughed | and I laughed | yet not knowing why | I loved you | I just loved you | for all the things about you | I too could not understand | like when you said forgive me | and walked away | another | and another time | That I loved you | for all the other things | that make you | a beautiful imperfection | makes me now sad | but ever grateful to have had | bits of you | here | and | there | once upon a time.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Mourir un peu

After seeing la Compañía Nacional de Danza (from Spain) perform Arenal and Herrumbre at the Lucent Dance Theater of The Hague and meeting some of its dancers.

Breaking as the orchestra plays,
stamping, tiptoeing, smoothly floating,
with solid muscles, on music carpets
the dancers dance,
the dancers dance.

Bodies turning and twirling,
one piece less and then another,
the dancers dance until they climax
and disappear
behind black curtains.

And as we raise in effusive awe
to a
forte farewell, to a bold applause
one more time, and then another,
the dancers bow, the dancers bow
with tearful eyes.

Winter in the eyes of a blind man

These words belong to Abdhul, from Uganda, who came to study to The Netherlands and will be the first blind man to hold a PhD in his country.

When I first arrived
people were friendly,
always willing to help

But as the winter approaches
they too, feel as cold
and their pace feels faster

They seem to be rushing
and unlike before,
they are not so nice anymore

(and then he smiles widely, rolling his white eyes)