Let me set the scene: I walk up to five men skateboarding by the statue in Prospect Park, they are hanging with each other and I approach and I say, "Hey, I wrote a poem about you, for you, pwede ko bang basahin sayo?"
Nakatingin silang lima sa akin na parang, ano, anong nangyayari dito? At pagkatapos ay isa-isa nilang sinasabi, "Oo, sigurado, gawin mo." Ang aking telepono ay may natitirang 1% na baterya. Maaaring mamatay ito bago ko pa simulan. Ako ay isang puting queer na babae sa kanyang 40s na nakasuot ng mga patong na damit para tumakbo at tanging mga mata ko lang ang nakikita. Lima silang may kulay, nasa 20's, lahat nakamaskara. Ang senaryo na ito ay tinatanggap na ang uri ng bagay na iyong pagtatawanan. Sa lahat ng paraan, gawin.
Halos lumakad ako sa tabi nila pagkatapos kong isulat ito, ngunit pagkatapos ay naisip ko, bakit hindi sabihin sa iyong muse na sila ang iyong muse? Anong pinsala ang maaaring gawin nito?
Ako ay bago sa tula, ngunit, gusto ko na ito ay mas madaling ibahagi kaysa sa isang buong dula. Maaari ka lamang magbigay ng isang tao ng isang tula.
Gusto ko rin itong ibahagi sa inyong lahat. Sa tingin ko ang sining ay nagpapagaling, nagbubukas sa atin at tinutulay ang mga puwang, at ginagawang hindi na tayo nag-iisa. Totoo naman sa akin eh. At gustung-gusto kong panoorin silang nag-isketing, napuno ako ng kaligayahan sa kanilang tuwa.
Mga skater sa pula at itim
Mga board na umiikot
sa ilalim ng puting sneakers
Young gifted at
Nag-e-egging sa isa't isa
Isang malambot yehhhhhh
Masayang ngiti
Smack talk
Whooo ayan na
Pagsusukat ng dalawang nakabaligtad na kono
Roadside orange at 911 blue
Ito ang pinakamasaya sa mga lalaki
Nakaduyan sa mga sikomoro
Nagbanggaan ang mga deck
Parang limot
Hanggang dalawampu't limang degree
Sa ilalim ng araw sa Brooklyn
Para sa mga nagtataka kung ano ang naisip nila - Sila ay sahig. Gustung-gusto nilang maging paksa ng isang tula. Nag fist bump silang lahat. ... Ito ay isang palitan ng pagmamahal. Minahal ko sila at pagkatapos ay kailangan kong ipakita sa kanila. At ibinalik nila ito. And to think muntik na akong hindi tumalikod at magsabi ng kung ano ano at basahin ito sa kanila. I mean, kakaiba... hey, sinulatan ko kayo ng tula pwede ko bang ibahagi sa inyo? ... pero, anong saya.
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Love the story - and the poem. I can see and feel the joy in those moments of sharing. Thank you.
Your story made me happy.
It’s really interesting, because, obviously, you took a great risk. Whenever we share our personal creativity, it’s a risk, but way more so sharing with complete strangers. Brava for that! (And the poem is really really beautiful..,)
Ah, yehhh, healing the world one small act at a time.
A wave and a smile go a long to smooth another’s journey, and perhaps even soften a bully’s heart. }:- a.m. proverb on the hoof
That is a wonderful story and poem. Sharing with the muse. Love it!
Thank you for these pure-hearted demonstrations of love. You "See No Strangers!"
Thank you Winter for listening to your inner voice that said, "stop & share"
I resonate deeply!
I've had the most amazing and deep connection in the streets, on subways,
busses, sidewalks when I simply stop and connect. usually I'm the one initiating. Though at times, it's also the willingness to stop and engage ♡
In DC, it was with Mr Weeks, a towering man with a booming voice, ebony skin and a twinkly grin. I'd see him when I walked to work. I dress rather "loudly" in pink with like green, turquoise blue and Mr Weeks began our initial connection with "hello, where you goin' dressed like that on a Tuesday morning?"
I began our connection by stopping & responding, "World Bank where I'm teaching Storytelling"
Mr Weeks: "phhhhhpppphhht, World Bank?! They don't need you, the kids, the teens, they need you..."
And thus began the glorious nearly daily encounters and conversations, "being schooled" by Mr Weeks. And my payment to Mr Weeks were Hugs. Initial offer from me to him and his response, "hugs are, at times, better than any money"
I always carry my Free Hugs sign in my bag... Mr Weeks would see me halfway down the block and be ready for me with arms open.
Thank you again Winter, for your courage to connect & reminding me of Mr Weeks.
[Hide Full Comment]Hugs from my heart to yours,
Kristin