when mere echoes become damp traces of what we intuit
i’m fasting with limited brainpower, yet i have learned something that might only be apparent when i am reduced to my most elemental functions. i don’t know if i can articulate it, but i know it, and i feel beholden to it now.
it’s snowing, and i’m watching two (now three) birds outside my window. they are on the roof of another brownstone. they just flew away, and one chirped, and they might be above another brownstone now. everyone keeps warning of an insane snowstorm here in philadelphia, but as of right now, the snow doesn’t appear to be sticking. this would be just another day in chicago, wouldn’t it?
i remember how we used to talk to each other, and i’m bewildered by how i showed up back then, but i suppose i can’t be too surprised when i think of what i am thinking of right now. you once said something significant about my past, which sat with me for a long time. i still think about it, along with the many things i withheld from you; the words i did not yet have. back then, i was drowning in fear and dread, but my gut told me that you were not who i feared.
i have carried a lot of regret, you know. i have wanted to find you and tell you that a lot has changed and that i am sorry and that i have other things to say, but today i don’t feel as heavy with regret, nor do i feel compelled to do anything about the regret that lingers. that’s because i have learned something that is only apparent when i am without food or drink for several hours. and to quote joe biden, this is a big fucking deal.
when i fast, i must tend to myself. when i tend to myself, i must not be distracted by the nonsense that so often derails me. i sit cross-legged on my bed, toggling my focus between this text and the windows xp tulips that frame my text editor. i care about nothing but the things and people and god who remind me to love myself first.
close your eyes and imagine a life that demands much less of you during this holy month of ramadan. my mom told me that such a life exists in some places, and i believe her. i told her of the trauma and pain i’ve carried in other spaces — spaces that continually betray my deep wish for me to love myself — spaces that train people to believe in being slaves. i don’t know if it’s fair to use a blanket in this context, but as i mentioned earlier, i have limited brainpower and so all my thoughts are bare and unembellished.
in this imagined life, i draw pictures that prompt me to stare out the window and search for those two or three birds and smile when i remember that they flew past and above me.
blog title inspired by the words of octavia e. butler.