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.

Quiet Wakes

Just take my hand;
I'll hold your silences close to my heart. Forever.
Our souls make music in these quiet wakes
And we shall share this infinite together
For as long as it takes,
On this forgotten land.

Avant L'Hiver

Eblouie
Pour des raisons mal-comprises,
Inconnues.
Comm’elle me tombe bien, cette pluie
Et comme mon cœur danse,
Ma petite âme, qui suive l’automne et la lune.
Ce soir, on va partager les étoiles
Une à une.
Rien pour moi ; je n’en veux aucune.
Je ne veux rien de cette pluie belle de l’hier 
Sauf pour une feuille jaune
Pour emporter chaleur dans mon hiver.

 

 

 

A Random Self-Portrait

 

Imperfectly stunning;
just like the bunch of my favourite oil pencils:
A sharp tip for every mountain climbed,
a broken one for each of my stumbles
But all together,
what a brightly coloured picture
With shades of dusty roses
And highlights of cobalt skies.

The Second Sun

It was that second sun who stole my heart;
It wrapped my soul in love and set it free
Embracing me and guiding from the start
Although its shining light was never meant for me.

A ball of orange rays so subtly lit
Shining through dandelions on a knoll
T'was lost to me before I even found it
But it's that second sun who has my soul.

 

 

 

 

End of the Line

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is where all unfinished hopes have come to lay

They dream of broken dreams within one final dream

Then fade through skies of amber, rocks and clay

And lay to rest along the quiet stream. 

 

The broken trust, unfinished thoughts and love, unchained

Have finally found a final place to rest

Forgotten passions, not enough sustained

Great paths - all lost in remnants of a nest.

One day you'll find them waiting all along for you:

Long silences within the echoes of those dreams

One day you’ll find the strength to bring them through

And you'll come back from depths of deep blue streams. 

 

 

 

 

Self Portrait

I'm made of blue and mountains;
Of salty taste and summers,
Long silences and echoes,
Snow, clouds and stormy waters.

I'm made in equal parts
Of sunrises and darkness
tied up with shiny moon beams
And windy whispers through quiet blades of grass,
Of solitary trees that shelter all their birds,
Rivers gone dry and icy streams.

I'm made of hopes and tales untold 
Of amber skies and loosing without trying,
Of drops of rains and rainbows raising high above,
Horse riding in the sunsets bright as gold,
I'm made of rocky seas and winning without gaining
I'm made of love.

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.

Flight

 

 

-for Alex -

 

All has been said

And the silence is loud

I'm laying my head

Watching cloud after cloud

 

Tomorrow I will carve a new world.

New words, new songs, new things.

I'll fly towards the sun, unfurled

And I will watch my wings.

Yesterday I lost a friend to suicide. He was a good guy. He was also the loneliest man I have ever met.

I never understood why blokes don't want to talk when they feel down; why they have to play the "tough guy" part even when they fall apart. Is it a general agreement or peers' pressure that feelings usually belong to the ladies? Well I have news. Depression in men is very real. 1 in 8 men will be experiencing it at a point.
If you suspect someone you care about is depressed, talk to them. Ask them if they are ok. It may not mean much to you, but the world to them. it may also save their life.

If you yourself are depressed, please talk to someone. And if you don't want to burden your loved ones with your problems, there is always help at hand. Beyond Blue has lots of resources and it's a very good point to start. Their experienced counsellors will be able to guide you through. You don't have to go through it alone.

Trees Dreaming

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dreams tucked away

Leaves hot like eyelids.

Through trees and clay,

We run like kids.

Trees dreaming in a day dream

And a day dream in a song 

Sunbeams caressing on a stream

We're right where we belong. 

Right from the start

Through clouds and Spring
You touched my heart

And made it sing 

Dreaming a yearlong longing

For trees and grass and sea,

Remains of mountains calling

And dreams that cannot be.