writings
More available upon request.
Medusa
Ravaged bodies
and ruptured beauty:
For all that man touches
turns into stone.
Nuestra señora de la paz
Grinded like sugar,
your silver veins bleeding,
we robbed your riches,
but you still grew tall.
het sirenenlied
Ik hoorde een lied over een zeeman en zijn sirene.
Met pronkende vormen ligt ze op haar rots. Haar manen wuivend, haar lach speels, haar ogen lokkend. Haar blik houdt hem gevangen, want voor de man leidt iedere zee terug naar haar.
Hoewel afscheid nemen moeilijk blijft, geven haar beloften van trouw de zeeman moed. Totdat hij erachter komt dat anderen dezelfde droom beloofd wordt. De sirene tuit haar lippen voor iedere man die langs vaart.
Jaren gaan voorbij en de sirene ligt nog steeds daar. Haar stank, lang geleden ingezet in de krochten van haar hart, vervult de zeelui nu met afgrijzen. Ook haar schoonheid brokkelt langzaam af.
Men mijdt haar blik en speculeert over de oorzaken van haar verval. Haar gezang, ooit reikend tot aan ieder uiteinde der aarde, is ondraaglijk geworden. Ze stoot slechts nog valse kreten uit.
De sirene kende vele mannen, maar aandacht was er nooit genoeg. Alleen zal ze eindigen, zo blijkt haar lot. De zeeman, van haar vele leugens geheeld, beproeft zijn geluk inmiddels elders.
De tragiek van de sirene, wiens leven draait om het bekoren van anderen.
Kintsugi
The stitching together,
of that once destroyed,
scattered vases,
made wholesome again.
The dance of the seven veils
Many believe that Salome’s dance was one of seduction,
Few know that she was unveiling herself before God,
Salome took King Herod by the hand and said:
‘To arrive at her mercy, we must forego our precious robes.’
‘To receive her love fully, we must shed our many veils, so dance with me, love.’
Salome knew that dancing in full surrender to life will free you from the vains of this world,
Salome knew that dancing in celebration of life is the bravest act of all,
And what else is life, but love?
I wandered around for seven long years,
Lost everything I was. Everything I knew. Everyone I loved, or used to called home,
I now find myself coming to a standstill, though my heart moves like it never has before.
Like the ballerina, rooted firmly in her sacred Self, I spin around my own spine,
The one that was broken and pieced together again, as it will many more times.
It will be worth it, I’ll say, so long as it takes me even deeper, into life,
And what else is life, but love?
Like Salome,
May I dance, and shed,
And shed a little more,
Until ecstasy, sweet ecstasy,
Is all that remains of me.
Like the ballerina,
May I whirl, and swirl,
And offer up my heart,
Until every cell of my being spins joyfully,
With all of life.
And what else is life, but love?
Poem of the week
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