Archive for the ‘Different Flags’ Category

Love

August 12, 2017

Love

I cannot forget it. I cannot forget you. All these years have gone by, countless years of deep hardship, but it doesn’t matter. You are in my heart. You were the one who taught me I was a woman. You were the man I dreamed of without realizing I was dreaming of you. I met you by accident; it wasn’t planned, but when I saw you, everything in me stood still. I couldn’t stop myself from loving you. That would have been the same as not being alive. I knew passion. The passion made me want to walk towards you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Name

June 7, 2017

I learned it. I repeated it over and over again. There was no way of getting enough of it. His name was like a drug I had to have or else I would explode. It was the only name that existed, that had ever existed. Walking down the street, going to buy groceries, watching TV somehow I would hear it and everything stopped. My body sensed an electric shock. I loved that man. I loved knowing he was near me, that I could see him anytime I wanted to. He belonged to me. He belonged to my heart.

 

Anything

April 11, 2017

Anything. I would do anything for you. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed. No risk was too much of a challenge. Nothing mattered except making sure that you were happy. I could not have loved you more if I had tried. The first time I saw you, I knew. It was that simple. My heart was full and I couldn’t wait to race over to you. I had to see you no matter what.

Supposed

March 28, 2017

Supposed

This isn’t happening. It is not supposed to happen. You and I are standing by ourselves within 2 or 3 feet from one another. We don’t dare to get close. We feel, but we shouldn’t feel. I don’t dare walk to where you are. I could pretend that I need to ask you something, but if I do, my eyes would tell you things you don’t want to know. There is no one. You are the dream of my life. There is no other.

 

 

 

 

 

There

January 13, 2017

 

There we were, you and I. My knees were trembling. I made an effort to look at you, at your beautiful brown eyes. I had to do it. The words I wanted to say had to come out of my mouth. We were scared—you didn’t want to hear them and I was not going to let that stop me. My body stood before you. It was stiff. The words, I will never forget the words. They came out slowly, as if I had practiced them for hours. You said nothing; listening was all you could handle. My face was red. I swallowed hard. My patience was done with you. My legs walked me towards the door.

 

Stiff

November 21, 2016

Stiff

The body was like a shut door. The body was starting to feel but it didn’t want to. It resisted life, it resisted passion. The body resisted you. The voice coming out of the mouth was small. The voice didn’t want to say it—not out loud, not for everyone to hear. Acknowledging you meant acknowledging love. That was forbidden; it just wasn’t done in our world. Hiding was allowed. Having a secret that no one must know about was allowed as well. The secret was not well-kept. The eyes could not hide what the soul felt.

 

The Name

November 18, 2016

The Name

The name. It was his name. It was his name and his only. It belonged to no other man, living or dead. She had never been aware of it before she met him. Then she smiled in amazement and joy. It was an unusual name and it became like a drug. She would spell it over and over. She wanted to see it, to read it. There was nothing like it. It was like a foreign language that she had to learn.

The Name

November 18, 2016

The name. It was his name, his name only. It belonged to no other man living or dead. The young woman treasured it. She had never been aware of it before, not until after she met him. Then it was like a drug. She wrote it down on a piece of paper over and over again. She spelled it out. It was like learning a foreign language. She did not want to learn it, but her heart told her that she had to. There was no other way.

Life

October 17, 2016

Life

The ink for the printer, the paper to print out the book, the time spent writing it, the time slaving over the computer, writing with the finger of one hand. It was my life. The book was my life. It still is. The passion could be heard in of. She had said these things many times before. She had spoken with deep emotion in her voice. She cared. She would always care, even after she was dead. The experience which led to the writing of my novel changed my life forever. I have written other things about subjects that were meaningful to me, but nothing is as important as telling the story of a young woman discovering herself on a desperate journey far away, to a country that she left long ago. She is a stranger in that country. She’s lived elsewhere, with different people, different habits. But in this other country, she feels again. She is alive as she has never been alive. She feels young. She stops dressing like an old lady. The young woman falls in love with someone she thinks she can’t have. The man in question is a priest. Priests can’t be lovers, boyfriends or husbands.

How Long

October 8, 2016

How Long

Tell me, how long has it been? How many years exactly? We met, I know. I remember that. It was on a Monday and I couldn’t believe who I was being introduced to. I lowered my eyes when we shook hands; I was young and didn’t know what to say beyond: nice to meet you. I saw something familiar in you, something I believed I saw somewhere else but didn’t remember where. Even now I can’t quite put my finger on what it was. It must have been the unusual place or how handsome you looked. You were a significant shadow, the beginning of something unforgettable.