11 Aug 2020

All Her Reincarnations

Before she chose to revisit the world through me, my daughter was a fourteenth century Chinese Empress..

Flash Fiction All Her Reincarnations





















7 Aug 2020

The Price of Language

 

"How can we teach closeness, when all we've been taught is distance.."

Listen to the audio recording of this piece of memoir The Price of Language

























A Box of Regrets

We gave each other unhealthy coping mechanisms

We gave each other salty bitter egos

We gave each other cynicism, and dark humor

We gave each other trust issues  

We gave each other old perfumed sweaters; we wore on cold lonely nights, then took off and shoved under a pile of clothing, then rummaged back for before bed time,

We gave each other long nights,

We gave each other eloquence,

We gave each other depth, we drowned in our grief

Don’t give myself back to me, we begged, and so we walked into other peoples lives, wearing each others faces, speaking each others words

We gave each other uninhibited planets. Parched, and yearning, we orbited in emptiness

We gave each other codes, words we listened to when nothing was said

We gave each other the tenacity to stare at a starless sky and wish

We gave each other time and space but we never truly forgave

We gave each other torn up dreams yellowed at the edges in the hope that maybe

We gave each other old used up desires rackety and stuck together with glue

The world, when we parted, conspired to remind us everyday, at every turn

And for our final gift

A box full of shadowy regrets, we cherish, and believe we deserve.


Listen to an audio recording of the poem: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UimsYXx0GwE





  

2 Aug 2020

50/50

I felt it shelter to speak to you - Emily Dickinson 

an audio poem: 50/50



































22 Jul 2020

Me From The Past




Dear me from the past,

The world will end, as worlds often do. The sight of blue surgical face masks tossed carelessly on lawns, and blowing forlornly on dirty streets, will become a familiar one. You will see white masks too, like shot doves, under cars, flung on tree branches, stuck like fugitives against chain-link fences, and this will remind you of a tragic final seen in a war movie. Speaking of which, movie theatres will become a wistful memory.
The world as you once knew it will end, and you will realize - despite everything - how safe you were, and how in a blink of an eye, you’ll never feel that safe again, ever. The mammoth threat of the pandemic will dwarf every other superficial fear you once had. A tsunami you can’t close your door against, or climb the highest mountain to escape; a blind, indiscriminate hurricane that sweeps everything in its wake.
In this world, a staggering number of deaths will be reported mundanely every morning, and you’ll casually turn your eyes away from the news, numb. In this world people will become even more distant, physically and emotionally; they will avoid each other like the plague (pun intended), eyeing each other with suspicion and hostility.
In this world you’ll regret squandering all those places; the pleasure of walking the corridors of an art museum and contemplating beauty, the ease in which you dined at restaurants, and met friends at cafes, the chatter and noise of beaches, parks, gyms, malls, bars, parties, stations, fairs, airports, and parades.
Once you settle into this new foreign world, once it becomes normal, as strange new worlds often do, you will remember a time “before” quarantine, and you will add it to the list of “befores” you’ve collected. Before it was normal to take off shoes, belts, and jewelry at an airport. Before it was normal to see terrorists behead innocent people. Before it was normal to see a great whale washed ashore with tons of human garbage exploding from its gut. Before you saw a white cop kneel on the neck of a black man so many times, it stops making you flinch.    

















2 Jul 2020

The Kiss


 

The lake changes, it expands, it contracts, it sounds impossible but it’s true; the shimmering greens and blues mix, then lash, then mix again, a tragic and beautiful piece of art. 




I walked with him hand in hand, hot fingers tangled; every little squeeze sends a jolt of fire through me.


Small fishing boats bobbing on the surface of the water, the geese and the seagulls fussing and crying. But I don’t see, I want him to kiss me.


We walk into a small wood, “what have you been thinking about this week?” I ask him. “You” he says sweetly. He takes me into his arms. Time is a strange thing, the kiss is hungry, feverish, and urgent. Was it a moment or forever long? We were forever in the woods, the dark tall trees leaning in to see. I stand on my toes, and he bends to reach me. His hot hands on my lower back take my breath away. We come out of the woods changed, stumbling and blind.


At home I’m useless, unable to focus on anything, my mind in a kind of stupor “him, him, him, I want him.” I try to quiet down my blood, I wash my muddy sneakers, scrubbing them hard. I clean the fridge with deliberate intensity, its coolness against my blazing chest, my hands mechanical in their movement, I push my volcanic desire down, I feel the ease in which his fingers encircle my waist, I burn.    












8 Jun 2020

Outdoors Art Show

Had my first Outdoors art show Saturday 6/6/2020

It was wonderful. People came and were appreciative, and I sold seven paintings!

Check out my art on my website https://fatimaalmatar.com/art/