Sing Born to Die as you walk through the beach
The Atlantic Ocean will bring me Atlantis back
Five poems from my holidays with my friend J.P Vianini.
The first poem was about the city:
And that was the city: colourful, beautiful, with beautiful people, but so lonely.
We went to the beach and first thing after I touched the ocean I wrote that:
My reaction towards you were your vision of the world My vision should be complete The self-help notebook I took three hours to pick: (could be for the fact that there was a whole section for that; what does that say about the world’s world view?) 1. Are we no more than how wide is our view of the ocean on a good weather day? 2. Is turquoise a good colour to paint a building in front of infinity? I’ve been blue since my foot fell in the sand yesterday and it didn’t feel like the last time — both senses: The last time last I was in love; There’s no pattern in the umbrellas and the ocean is the pattern where all patterns break let me break this one, dear lord. I almost got into a church the other day to ask god to end me so I could end everything I’ve never been a religious woman and never will, though I could write about the aspect of me set by someone else’s vision Someone before me I couldn’t pick the self help notebook and the vision got lost when & where the sky and the ocean made love and fell asleep
And that was the beach: blue, infinite, where the ocean and the sky become one.
I was terribly sad for coming back to my personal loneliness in a city that is not colourful nor beautiful, but old and gloomy.
So, I wrote about that while drinking a terrible cup of coffee:
Even the birds are used to the rush in the city
For the first time in over a decade, I got sad for real for saying goodbye at the station
There’s been plenty of goodbyes in my life, some I was pretty relieved for
Some I believed it was the last time, some I couldn’t even wait for a ride and just flew away earlier
Like the bird who flew into a restaurant in the motorway looking for food
And kept on
Nonchalant
Of all the threats around her
But for the first time in over a decade, this goodbye crashed me
After walking six miles along the Atlantic Ocean, singing, hoping that the sun would touch the water
Hoping that the sand would cure everything-
My feet didn’t hurt and the noise of the ocean, and the noise of the people felt just like home.
My feet did take me to finish line: it wasn’t the end.
The sad thing is that my people are always so far away from me
I cannot walk long enough to reach the beach and meet them
My feet will fail and all the burden I’ve been carrying will overtake me
For the first time in over a decade, this goodbye
This good
Bye
Will see you soon
There were people wearing the flag of Brazil, demanding a dictatorship and embarrassing human race on my way back. I was just wondering if those people had ever really seen the ocean, with wide eyes that can see beyond any infinity. I was also wondering what was freedom like to those people.
I wonder a lot of stuff. I get lost in my own mind. I dream unbelievable stuff that could be ages in a 8-hour sleep; and my people do that too.
I wrote another poem:
Something I do not agree, but in the right circumstances I could: It must be wonderful having everyone you love in the place you were born and never feel the need to escape. I didn’t have that luck. My people are dreamers when they’re awake they leave their bodies when they sleep; the ones that people wearing the flag wouldn’t understand because they don’t go anywhere when their eyes shut. I go so many places I leave my body I live so many lives I leave my body I jump so many dimensions I leave my body I leave my body every night when I go to sleep. Why wouldn’t I leave this place when I feel like I’ve been sleeping not to feel
We are the ones who dream. We are the ones who sing along the ocean. We are the ones who love beyond any fear. Unconditionally.
I want to leave this place and I will. Thank you, J.P, for reminding me I can feel at home just by singing.
Love,
Adora
I'll always be right here.