Tag Archives: dreams

XVI. Home Sweet Home

Abia remembered places how she tasted sweets. Sour and sweet, sour and sweet. The ones that were delightfully ordinary and ones that were treats. Cities like candy in a powdered box they were there to relish, to reminisce.
Nova Fribrugo was high up in the mountains. It carried mist through it’s air and whistles in it’s winds. Her childhood home was like a dark chocolate humbug, or a sea salted caramel. It oozed with tradition, with sweetness and familiarity, but left an aftertaste of indifference.
Merolas was a sugar coated fruit cube. Covered in snowy sweetness it was soft to touch, full of flavour and adventure. But it’s taste was ambiguous if you did not let it settle on your tongue, too sharp if left there for too long, too much in one mouthful and you might choke.

© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town

For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into an idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.
Audre Lorde, ‘Poetry is not a luxury’, Sister Outsider, 1984.

CaliforNIA

dreams cruising through
the longest summers,
sunset highways
in every colour
skies of marble
stuck in wonder
when you wake up,
cool air breeze
aqua over body

in neon seas
dreams cruising through
’82 degrees’
when you wake up in
the longest summers