Blowing away the storm

October 10, 2024October 10, 2024 ~ Patricia Lezama ~ 1 Comment

Hello, this morning I woke up with a fog over me, as if a gray cloud with raindrops and thunder was announcing a storm. I then decided not to exercise at home, because if it was going to rain outside later, I preferred THAT to being trapped by the gray cloud in my head. So, I decided to arrive an hour early to my workplace and go to the park for a walk, open to possibilities, attentive, and observing my surroundings. I noticed the plants, the ground beneath my feet, and I remembered that nature speaks, that life arises from death, that everything is a cycle; something must die for something else to emerge, everything regenerates in life and existence.

In these photos I’m sharing, I capture what my eyes saw this morning and what completely changed my attitude.

In this photo, something is born amidst the dead; something blooms in a barren landscape. It doesn’t matter if it’s a predatory plant—at this moment, my attitude doesn’t judge or criticize whether it’s a weed or not; I simply see that it’s something green blooming in the midst of death, a plant that stands tall and fertile.

There’s a tree that once was large and leafy, now serving as shade and nourishment for the small plants growing around it, accompanying it in homage. Nature not only speaks; if you go further, it even wants me to smile, and in a comedic way, a bird drops one of its feathers among the bushes to make my memory play and make me sing: ¨One of these things is not like the others,

One of these things just doesn’t belong,

Can you tell which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song?” or invites me to play, “Where is the feather?” (like in Where´s Waldo?).

I smile, continue my walk, my cloud clears just like the horizon, and I await the rain, to wet, to relieve the drought, to nourish, to wash away and lighten the dark clouds of others, making them emerge from their caves. In the end, everything begins with a small decision: do I stay or go, do I observe or close my eyes, do I laugh or not, do I write these lines or not, do I post or not?

And here it is, and here I am, I go on being.

The Ode to Procrastination

May 16, 2024 ~ Patricia Lezama ~ 2 Comments

By Patricia Lezama

Here goes the passerby, weary from little sleep

Struggling to walk, striving to count her steps

She wants to be inspired, to see the beauty of the green gardens in a sunny and blooming spring

She recognizes that balcony, for she has passed by these many cobwebs before

There’s the same new broom resting against the same wall, motionless, they listen to the spiders weave each night a little more in the corner of the ceiling

A lamp blackened with soot and neglect, which once shed light, hangs like a forlorn lover

The cobwebs that were woven with imperceptible threads to catch sustenance, are now dense veils that tarnish the once fresh white corners

There’s another balcony above this one, holding several autumns’ worth of accumulated detritus

Dry leaves pile up on the railing, thirsty for rain they soak placidly, fecund they remain moistening the wood

One day someone stepped out onto that balcony on the first floor and perhaps thought to improve it

They bought that broom, with a head as full of cobwebs as their balcony, they decided to go inside and continue with their battles,

“When it’s less cold outside, I’ll clean,” they said.

Several mornings passed until the radiant, warm, and abrasive sun arrived

With the intention of inviting people over, the tenant went out to the balcony, took the dusty broom, looked at the ceiling, where the second-floor balcony, hovered above rotting, the beginning of collapse

Anger crept in, pushing aside the broom to start complaints

There are no good neighbors anymore, nor good building managers, claims are made, but no one listens, just as no one comes to visit those balconies, only the passage of time and forgetfulness keep them

When they restore the balconies, new decisions will come, say the neighbors, while the administrators delay repairs, prioritizing other duties

The costumed children arrive, peeking at the balcony, organic decorations, they demand their candies and leave singing cheerfully and happily.

When December comes with its lights and festivities

Changes are announced with purposes and purges

But trips and gatherings from outside arrive

Spring comes without warning, laden with pollen and more reasons to do the cleaning

The passerby continues her steps

Preferring that balcony with stacked ¨maybe later¨

than one occupied by so many objects, where space alone delays the stories.

With excessive or few things

Ultimately, it is motivation that thrusts

A movement, small and certain like these steps

bringing one after the other some meaning.

And there remains the broom undisturbed

Posing shyly for the camera that spies upon it

capturing the tales that linger in the corner.

Thanks to the review and collaboration to Melanie Reynolds!

Suffixed

April 24, 2024 ~ Patricia Lezama ~ 6 Comments

I moved away like leaves in the gale, hurriedly and without time.

I heard the word ¨egoism¨ behind me.

And what I awaited was for you to dedicate yourself to yourself

But your anger pointed me out, pushing me into an abysm.

Perhaps long before, we dreamt of becoming an isthmus, a name, a place that would bring us closer, that would unite our worlds. But even to those desires we let be, and the cyclical ancestral routine kept us, pushing us back, gradually turning us into suffixes.

Here and now, in this present moment, without regrets or unknown fears of near futures;

I sit, and I look at myself, breathing, and I declare:

that of all the -isms I have lived with, that one, which subtly corners me,

observing without seeing me, that one which allows me to breathe with a mask,

that one which declares itself appearing as a luxury because it provides comfort, contentment, but in the end,

it laughs with a half-smile at me, at you, at our dreams.

That, and the one I would undoubtedly face again, is the obedient conformism.