About the Eyes

About this poem:

We live in times of great turmoil; worldwide, we are divided by power, greed, discord and famine. I think it is most important than ever to acknowledge that we live under the same sun, that we are all equal. Unfortunately, I don't speak as many languages as I would like to.

I imagined 4 different characters, with different languages, different eyes colour and different life experience. They are made by the different memories each of them carries.

The black eyes remember storms, wars and their mother, trying to find her children's next piece of bread. Even when they found peace, living in a different country, a country of blue-eyed people, the memories come back.

The green eyes remember different kind of storms and Spring nights. The brown eyes remember the enchanted forest of their childhood. The blue eyes have never known famine and they reassure the black eyes that they will never have to worry about the bread.

I have always considered myself a visual artist primarily. That is not to say that I am not serious about my writing. I always knew I want to write - there was never a doubt. I just always envisaged the two getting along just fine. I couldn't imagine myself doing one without the other.
Recently, I have been commissioned to write. A lot. And I am thrilled to say, "Stories from my Grasslands" will soon have a home, airing from a local radio station. (I promise, all will be revealed soon).

Meanwhile, I want to talk about writing and about what I have learned about writing . Last year, I was fortunate to take part in a series of "Mother Tongue" workshops under the guidance of the ever amazing Jacqui Malins and Lauren Klinger. I admired their courage of standing up and admitting they only spoke English; yet their workshops were truly mind blowing. They taught techniques and emphasis, they made writing exercises fun, they made me see languages and their fusion in a totally new perspective. Each workshop was enhanced by the contribution of a special writer as well as the contribution of the other participants - so many ladies brought their knowlege: Anita Patel, Niloofar Fanaiyan, Vesna Cvjeticanin and Dunja Cvjetićanin, Christiane Vivanco de Savaris, Melissa Gomez, Karina Palomita. Thank you. I have learned so much in so little time. And I made some friends too, in the process.
So I decided to try fusion for myself. Here is my first poem in all the languages I love.
I get this question so many times, why do you write in other languages than yours? And I don't really know what the answer would be. Perhaps because my biggest regret is that I cannot make music, even if my life depended on it. So I play with the words, instead. I find music in their rhythm. I am (by far) not an academic, and I am sure that my grammar is poor at times. Perhaps the sense of what I want to convey is lost in translation at times, just like me. But what a fun adventure, to dance one's way through all these words.

Through My Heart

 



 Maybe our souls were meant to dream as one
Temple on temple and heart next to heart
Silence to silence, two riders on the run,
Hand holding hand, not meant to come apart.

Two halves of same horizon, we sail across the sky:
Tempests within a silence and tides within a shoal
Colours that spell a lifetime and smiles within a cry
I wish the world could see right through your very soul

Stars in your eyes, like melted drops of rain
Meeting the golden rays of morning sun
I read through you the joys and all the pain
Of thousands words that haven't yet been spun.

We're Stream and River, drawing cores from depths
Where shapes and lines and colours play the part
Of songs unsung, undying love and strengths;
I wish the world could see you through my heart.

Yesterday I have been wrapping up a project very dear to my heart.
A project that I have spent my last 2 months working really hard on perfecting.
I don't intend to share publicly the portraits of the children that have thought me so much during this time.

But I would like to ask everyone to take a minute and consider this: how do you explain Autism and the Spectrum to someone that has never experienced it and doesn't understand it?
How do you educate the masses, changing ignorance through information? How do you make someone understand that the little kid throwing a tantrum at the mall is really not deserving that "naughty child" label so readily applied and that in reality some children have a huge sensory overload that they are just learning to deal with?
And how do you explain non-verbal autism to someone that has never been exposed to it? The longing to communicate with the others, as well as a parent's longing to hear their child talking?

Today, I chose to do it through a poem and an image. In writing this poem, I was inspired by a dear friend and the  amazing, loving connection she has with her son.