The sweet tones of a mellow song
The unexpected words of an unheard poem
The mild smells drifting from the wood
Inside of all that you hide, and in an instant, you’re back
You trap me, you fill my insides with a warm buzz
My nose feels an itch, and my heart shrinks
And without a warning, you take me away
Back to my memories, my roots, my forgotten dreams
It takes just an instant, but you get me back
Reality shifts, and suddenly, I’m gone
The back seat of a compact car, cruising on a cold morning
The family trips, the thrill of a childhood life.
With no more than just my memories, I carry on
What I felt, I feel no more, and I can barely bring it back
What I sensed is now a cloud…
But those notes, words and smells, set me straight
Nostalgia, you! The sneakiest of the senses
The one that reminds us that as long as we have a mind
We will have our past, tattooed to our souls
And in an instant, and without warning, you take us back.
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Friday, September 17, 2010
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
When was the last time?
When was the last time?
That you threw yourself on the grass, and saw time pass by.
That you Took a moment to smell the scent from a tree
That you Stopped to listen to the murmurs of an early morning,
And Gave a deep breath, and filled your lungs with air
How much does it cost?
To buy the last rays of the sun setting on the horizon
The shades of blue, orange and purple in the sky
To touch the soft petals of a flower
The smell of warm soup in a cool evening
Why did we stop?
Spinning around in circles, looking up high in the sky
Running down a hill with the anticipation of simply falling.
Having dreams of incredulous yet fantastic possibilities,
Believing we could, even against all odds.
The last time we took the moment to understand
That we are no longer children, that we have changed
That our natural instincts, lay inside, mostly dead
That’s how our innocence deserves a requiem.
The last time we checked, we had grown up.
Why is life so real, so solid, so wrong.
Waste is now a verb that we avoid,
As we try to earn a solid, cold, shared goal.
When was the last time?
You told yourself a story to go to bed,
You heard the sound of the soul in your head.
How much does it cost?
To gain all those dreams again
To talk to God and feel my prays
Why did we stop?
To just let go with joy,
To be ourselves.
SDIH (5/27/2008)
That you threw yourself on the grass, and saw time pass by.
That you Took a moment to smell the scent from a tree
That you Stopped to listen to the murmurs of an early morning,
And Gave a deep breath, and filled your lungs with air
How much does it cost?
To buy the last rays of the sun setting on the horizon
The shades of blue, orange and purple in the sky
To touch the soft petals of a flower
The smell of warm soup in a cool evening
Why did we stop?
Spinning around in circles, looking up high in the sky
Running down a hill with the anticipation of simply falling.
Having dreams of incredulous yet fantastic possibilities,
Believing we could, even against all odds.
The last time we took the moment to understand
That we are no longer children, that we have changed
That our natural instincts, lay inside, mostly dead
That’s how our innocence deserves a requiem.
The last time we checked, we had grown up.
Why is life so real, so solid, so wrong.
Waste is now a verb that we avoid,
As we try to earn a solid, cold, shared goal.
When was the last time?
You told yourself a story to go to bed,
You heard the sound of the soul in your head.
How much does it cost?
To gain all those dreams again
To talk to God and feel my prays
Why did we stop?
To just let go with joy,
To be ourselves.
SDIH (5/27/2008)
When “usual” changes
Just like always, the faded sounds of church bells and roosters gave away an early morning unfolding in the horizon. As in the beginning of any tale, the ideas in my head seemed pointless and confused.
I was 15, and like any teenager, I couldn’t care less about anyone I knew, except probably for some of my friends. It was a school day, and that meant an early morning to prepare for the long day ahead. I stopped, looked at my calendar, it was October 9th, a rather hot morning for that day I thought, I marked a smiley face on the box enclosing the date, and marched out of my bedroom thinking, “a new week, let’s do it”.
The signs of the regularity of a Monday morning were insignificant, almost unnoticeable, but for some reason, I stopped in the middle of the road on my way to school, I smelled the air and I noticed something about it that was not familiar: There was no wind; I could only feel the warmth feeling of the cement of the sidewalk reflecting the heat of the early rays of the sun on my face. There were no sounds, I couldn’t hear the early birds chirping nor see the crows on the fields looking for their breakfast; in a flash, I knew, but just as fast, I seemed to have forgotten and kept on walking, looked at my watch, it was 6:40 in the morning, I had to hurry.
My high-school years were good, I had goals, and several projects going on trying to rebuild my already damaged self esteem from my junior-high years, and I was doing a good job. Nothing had warned me about the build up of anticipation that I could sense, but that I just couldn’t read, I then focused on existing, on doing what I was supposed to be doing.
The long laboratory class room was filled with students, practice books, and hanging objects that were trying to clarify the physics behind periodic movements and the effect of deceleration, the scope of our job: The oscillatory movement. How ironic.
4 long cement desks containing 4 sets of lab sinks covered in cool white ceramic tiles worked as our operation central, two groups of 6 to 7 students would team up to complete the tasks of the class, first planning the experiments, then setting up the area and finally writing the reports on the thin paper booklets that our teacher would collect at the end of the class.
I looked at my watch again, 9:30 in the morning, I was already writing my report and I was happy to be 20 minutes early so then I could wonder around the school before my next class. Some teams were already done with their experiments and were setting their metal benches on top of their tables waiting to line up to be checked by the laboratory assistant to verify that they were clear to go.
One second later, I could sense it, the same feeling I had earlier that morning; the chatting sound of students became softer and softer until it was a distant murmur in the back of my head, I looked out, and noticed the trees were still, the usual morning breeze that came down from the mountains at this time of the day was absent, and then I looked at the grass fields behind the classroom, the crows had fled.
I chose to ignore my intuition, and continued writing my report; the voices of students combined with the clanking sound of benches against ceramic tiles became louder in my head, making it difficult to concentrate trying to describe why the “periodic movement” made my life easier. Then it came...
... Just like an angry tiger who finds a way out of his cage in the middle of a multitude, slowly, but firmly, the table began moving, and in my concentration, I was unable to react.
The sounds changed from friendly chats to silence, everyone’s brains connected in what our suspicions were soon confirmed it was an earthquake, from silence to doubt, to people trying to verify that they were really awake, and in a flash, the levels of adrenaline spiked and transformed into a collective hysteria, spreading from student to student; and just like that, I could hear it, coming from inside the earth, sounds of rolling stone about to emerge, I knew it was about to get worse.
I stood up, I looked, I could only see the faces of confusion combined with fear, then the shake changed, from an almost nursing oscillatory wave to a more chaotic Rayleigh wave that made everything shake and fall.
My heart began bumping, and my head started feeling warm, I sensed fear, and I could only think of getting out of the classroom, my senses sharpened to a point where the only thing I was able to focus was the exit; which began cramming with students rushing out of the building.
And in an instant, reacting to an instinct, I looked back to the part of the classroom nobody else was paying attention to, and there he was, my friend, motionless, unable to rush out like everybody else sitting on his wheel chair waving back at me. Instantly I came back, I re-gained control and rushed back inside the womb of chaos.
With an unfamiliar agility I jumped over his chair to the back of it, gained a firm grip to the handles and warned him it wasn’t going to get pretty; but then I saw the door, it was full of people trying to get out, and I apologized internally (as I wasn’t planning on announcing my intentions) for the running over that was about to occur as I had the firm purpose of using Edgar as a bull guard on my classmates.
…I didn’t do it, I mean, I didn’t need to do it as a strong hero-to-be classmate saw us and must have read the panic in my face, and instead yelled stronger than anyone else to announce Edgar had to get out too and extending his arms, managed to direct the cattle of students to a halt and let us get out of the classroom, we thanked him and re-arranged our priorities to survive.
The movement kept going, it seemed like hours, but only a few second had passed by. I was still pushing Edgar on the hall and considered dropping him like a truck dumps rocks, down the steps to a little garden in the center of the school, but cleverly, he talked me out the idea to proceed to plan B, which was to keep going towards the wheelchair’s ramps that would put us in safe open space.
We reached the ramp, and got our backs in the middle of the school’s patio; then I looked up and saw it, the trees moving like if hit by the winds of a strong hurricane, the poles of the flag swinging crashing against the lanterns on the green spaces, everyone there felt safe, but still vulnerable. We couldn’t do anything, just observe, dream, and fear.
2 minutes later, it was over. What seemed an eternity transformed into uncertainty, would it come back? Are we safe? Where is my family? Has it finally stopped?
And there we stood, as the new structure dictated by nature took place, the sky was still blue, the birds came back, and life begun rebuilding itself after an experience that I would always remember with fear, admiration and a smile.
SDIH (5/22/2008)
I was 15, and like any teenager, I couldn’t care less about anyone I knew, except probably for some of my friends. It was a school day, and that meant an early morning to prepare for the long day ahead. I stopped, looked at my calendar, it was October 9th, a rather hot morning for that day I thought, I marked a smiley face on the box enclosing the date, and marched out of my bedroom thinking, “a new week, let’s do it”.
The signs of the regularity of a Monday morning were insignificant, almost unnoticeable, but for some reason, I stopped in the middle of the road on my way to school, I smelled the air and I noticed something about it that was not familiar: There was no wind; I could only feel the warmth feeling of the cement of the sidewalk reflecting the heat of the early rays of the sun on my face. There were no sounds, I couldn’t hear the early birds chirping nor see the crows on the fields looking for their breakfast; in a flash, I knew, but just as fast, I seemed to have forgotten and kept on walking, looked at my watch, it was 6:40 in the morning, I had to hurry.
My high-school years were good, I had goals, and several projects going on trying to rebuild my already damaged self esteem from my junior-high years, and I was doing a good job. Nothing had warned me about the build up of anticipation that I could sense, but that I just couldn’t read, I then focused on existing, on doing what I was supposed to be doing.
The long laboratory class room was filled with students, practice books, and hanging objects that were trying to clarify the physics behind periodic movements and the effect of deceleration, the scope of our job: The oscillatory movement. How ironic.
4 long cement desks containing 4 sets of lab sinks covered in cool white ceramic tiles worked as our operation central, two groups of 6 to 7 students would team up to complete the tasks of the class, first planning the experiments, then setting up the area and finally writing the reports on the thin paper booklets that our teacher would collect at the end of the class.
I looked at my watch again, 9:30 in the morning, I was already writing my report and I was happy to be 20 minutes early so then I could wonder around the school before my next class. Some teams were already done with their experiments and were setting their metal benches on top of their tables waiting to line up to be checked by the laboratory assistant to verify that they were clear to go.
One second later, I could sense it, the same feeling I had earlier that morning; the chatting sound of students became softer and softer until it was a distant murmur in the back of my head, I looked out, and noticed the trees were still, the usual morning breeze that came down from the mountains at this time of the day was absent, and then I looked at the grass fields behind the classroom, the crows had fled.
I chose to ignore my intuition, and continued writing my report; the voices of students combined with the clanking sound of benches against ceramic tiles became louder in my head, making it difficult to concentrate trying to describe why the “periodic movement” made my life easier. Then it came...
... Just like an angry tiger who finds a way out of his cage in the middle of a multitude, slowly, but firmly, the table began moving, and in my concentration, I was unable to react.
The sounds changed from friendly chats to silence, everyone’s brains connected in what our suspicions were soon confirmed it was an earthquake, from silence to doubt, to people trying to verify that they were really awake, and in a flash, the levels of adrenaline spiked and transformed into a collective hysteria, spreading from student to student; and just like that, I could hear it, coming from inside the earth, sounds of rolling stone about to emerge, I knew it was about to get worse.
I stood up, I looked, I could only see the faces of confusion combined with fear, then the shake changed, from an almost nursing oscillatory wave to a more chaotic Rayleigh wave that made everything shake and fall.
My heart began bumping, and my head started feeling warm, I sensed fear, and I could only think of getting out of the classroom, my senses sharpened to a point where the only thing I was able to focus was the exit; which began cramming with students rushing out of the building.
And in an instant, reacting to an instinct, I looked back to the part of the classroom nobody else was paying attention to, and there he was, my friend, motionless, unable to rush out like everybody else sitting on his wheel chair waving back at me. Instantly I came back, I re-gained control and rushed back inside the womb of chaos.
With an unfamiliar agility I jumped over his chair to the back of it, gained a firm grip to the handles and warned him it wasn’t going to get pretty; but then I saw the door, it was full of people trying to get out, and I apologized internally (as I wasn’t planning on announcing my intentions) for the running over that was about to occur as I had the firm purpose of using Edgar as a bull guard on my classmates.
…I didn’t do it, I mean, I didn’t need to do it as a strong hero-to-be classmate saw us and must have read the panic in my face, and instead yelled stronger than anyone else to announce Edgar had to get out too and extending his arms, managed to direct the cattle of students to a halt and let us get out of the classroom, we thanked him and re-arranged our priorities to survive.
The movement kept going, it seemed like hours, but only a few second had passed by. I was still pushing Edgar on the hall and considered dropping him like a truck dumps rocks, down the steps to a little garden in the center of the school, but cleverly, he talked me out the idea to proceed to plan B, which was to keep going towards the wheelchair’s ramps that would put us in safe open space.
We reached the ramp, and got our backs in the middle of the school’s patio; then I looked up and saw it, the trees moving like if hit by the winds of a strong hurricane, the poles of the flag swinging crashing against the lanterns on the green spaces, everyone there felt safe, but still vulnerable. We couldn’t do anything, just observe, dream, and fear.
2 minutes later, it was over. What seemed an eternity transformed into uncertainty, would it come back? Are we safe? Where is my family? Has it finally stopped?
And there we stood, as the new structure dictated by nature took place, the sky was still blue, the birds came back, and life begun rebuilding itself after an experience that I would always remember with fear, admiration and a smile.
SDIH (5/22/2008)
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