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Winter warm
By Marivel Guzman
There was a time, when I wondered in the timeless silence of solitude, when my books and my pen were my companions, my life was dull, bored and sad,
I was alone,
There was a time, when I flew in all the directions without compass, where the winds of the East were stronger than the West, I wanted to come back, but there was no place to call home, I felt alone,
I was lost.
There was a time, when “meaning” lost its true sense, where living was a painful task, eating was not a choice, writing was my secret refuge, and sleeping my escape, but even in my dreams I felt lost,
I was exhausted.
There was a time,
when the air was hard to breath, my chest refused to expand, my eyelids weighted a ton, and my heart was cold as ice, living seemed to waste my time, to exhausted to be tired,
I was sad
There was a time,
when spring lost its colors, the birds chirped no more, the swelling buds collapsed, the seeds refused to germinate, my garden lost its essence with no birds or butterflies to feed,
I was dying
Time kept running out of my timeline, my space become confined, and it felt small to breath or move, but with courage, I stretched my might, and survived the loneliness of my sleepless nights.
I’m living again
I stepped out from the edge of death, and saw a world full of life, I amazed myself with wonders, I saw mountains blooming with majestic colors, I waved goodbyes to birds migrating North and South, and my garden is again an Eden to the bees, the insects and the butterflies, I breathe deep and calm, refreshing cool air awakes my conscience to receive a welcoming Winter warm.
I’m fresh like a morning rose, and my heart is joyful once again. It reminds me with its loyal beats, that I was never lonely, lost, or sad, it was always there for me, to comfort me with its warming pumps. But “winter warm” it’s my companion, it’s light that shines on my journey, it’s an anchor to keep me straight, to keep me dreaming for more tomorrows to come, and a paradise and refugee in case I need to escape.
June 06, 2022 by Marivel Guzman
The Mist
The Mist
I feel myself as part of the air, the water, the mountain, the tree, the earth, the fire and the mist.
The abstract sensation of not being in a solid state but ether—that is, a ‘something’ that exists everywhere like the Akash that surrounds us all in a phrase, “From above so is bellow”.
This is a reflection of my altered essence that feels like being everywhere; touched but touching, admired but admiring, but also a transparent and diluted substance molded by the strokes of pain that follows everything I touch, everything that I dream.
But, there is also a feeling of being part of the ‘nowhere’, where you don’t see me, but you feel me; like the air. You feel me through my emotions, passions and pains. Everything that transpire from my essence is me. It’s my soul ‘talking’.
But at the end, I’m the mist of my conquered ideals. I have to surrender to justice and equality, and as the mist, I’ll disappear with white and black tones of grainy rebellion. My soul is boiling with tremores of love for humanity, for earth, for truth, justice and peace.
I must dissipate! ❤️
By Marivel Guzman
March 12, 2018
The Word – Akashma Poetry
First was the Word!
That Master Creator,
The original thought,
The Artist, the Craftsman
The Voices… The Inside!
The Inner creator!
The Word! It’s the source;
Of all inspirations,
The Word is creation?
The Word is the Source!
The Magic sculptor of thoughts,
and Ideas!
The craft maker of poems,
The inventor of thoughts
The source that you feel;
We all call it Love…
The magical power
That we all have inside,
The spiritual force that uplifts us…
And keep us from falling…
Invisible!
But strong as an oak
The Word is spirit!
A ghost?
The Word is the magical scepter
That guide us and feed us,
spiritual force, invincible!
Indivisible, God!. It’s The Word!
Marivel R Guzman © 2010
By: Marivel Guzman
Marivel Guzman is an American poet and fiction writer.
(photo and graphics by Marivel Guzman)
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