Canada Journey

Everything is so still that I can hardly believe it. The sea stands alone in its stubborn turbulence (which we challenge all the same, hovering on the Homeless).

There’s a lot of work, that’s for sure: English written task, next test period approaching, stupid labs, big decisions to make and the countdown to the horrific IBs… Still, everything is being sorted out very nicely. I get this very pleasant (illusionary) feeling of being in control… It’s a sweet chimera! I feel silly in this sudden passion for life.

Poetry

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

Pablo Neruda

The future, slowly but surely, arises in the distance. Life is an amazing thing! So naturally balanced... One loses and wins, relaxes and despairs, comes and goes; and still there’s a constant flow, a path which seems ours and no one else’s.

Ya… I got a conditional acceptance for the University of Wales. It’s nothing really… But now I can breathe. At least there’s something somewhat defined on the horizon (that was all I needed at this point).

Love you all and thank you every minute for who I am,
Sara

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlighthe
will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)


Poem by e. e. cummings

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A estacao da neve chega ao fim e com ela as ferias, o ski, as tardes relaxadas de leitura em frente 'a lareira e a boa comida. Nesta ultima semana ha que aproveitar, por que depois... Depois sera a corrida desenfreada ate aos exames.

Beijos