let it shine

my little flashlight bounces along. bounce. bounce. bounce.

i've been holding onto it for a very long time indeed now. there's a thumbprint on it where my fingers have to grip it, so i'm used to the groove. sometimes i play tricks with it and throw it in the air and catch it again. wheehwwheeehhwwhheee bounce bounce.

i walk along, but sometimes i like to run. bouncebouncebouncebouncebounce.

i'm not sure what's around me, because the light isn't big enough. it's just a dot really. but sometimes i like to shine it out to see if anything will illuminate. bouuuuuuuu....

and i think i've forgotten where i'm going, except something always tells me to keep going forward so i right the little beam and continue onward. bounce. bounce. bounce.

the batteries are wearing out, so sometimes the bouncing is interrupted by spurts and sputterings. bounce. bouscchhh---nce. bounce. b-----

i whistle loudly to pretend i'm not afraid, but i clutch the little light tightly to my heart and walk a little faster as if maybe i can get there before it's gone. bboouunncceebboouunncceebboouunnccee.

but oops.

the sputtering got worse and it turned off for good. bounce. boun-- b--

imagine that. my eyes adjusted.

bhalo na

distance, literal thousands of miles of space between us, makes things clearer. for what seems like years and at times only days, i've been restructuring and rehashing the part of the universe that seems out of line with my personal view of it. the ins and outs of the whole world swam around my head and i could only see one thing at a time. but sitting under a mosquito net just about as far away as i could possibly be, my world was laid out like big puzzle pieces in front of me. i moved a few things around and could see the whole picture at the same time and fit it all together, and then i put it in my pocket safe and went about my life. i felt stronger. bigger. better. i wasn't afraid anymore, wasn't insecure or confused or hurt. it all fit together and it was compact enough to deal with at once. but a short bus ride later into the city and the noises began again. and all of a sudden i lost track of that feeling and everything started spinning again. i think it might be slower now, or smaller, but i can't put it in my bag anymore. i'm tired already.

slamaly kum

the city is alive from first light. prayers are said, directed from the loudspeakers all around, and the day begins. honking, shouting, the noise of cars and rickshaws rattling through the streets. people prattle and bargain loudly and quickly, their voices constantly raised above each other. the motor vehicles cannot go a few meters down the road without applying the abrasive horn. in attempts at hospitality or flirtation the people you pass in buildings and on the street must constantly talk at you all the time. it's impossible to sit and work in peace for a few minutes without interruptions of people talking to you and around you and about you. the student meeting place is always abuzz with conversation and gossip. it is noise noise noise from morning til night.
it's as if everyone wants to be announced. a desperate and childish plea to be noticed: 'hello! hello! i'm here!'
in the densely packed city, where if the crowds don't get too close to you the heat will, where streets are cluttered with transport, where too many poor men are competing for menial rickshaw customers, where houses are dirty and packed with people, where loudspeakers call attention to the most holy of personal experiences...we have lost the ability to be private.
we have forgotten how to sit alone with ourselves for an hour or two, how to take the time to be at peace with ourselves, why to keep our voices low and our words few. this is the real tragedy of poverty. when there is nothing to return home to, all of our business must be conducted loudly and in public. because solitary brings awareness of self. we can learn much about ourselves from our absences and our silences. but with no place to be alone to find our essence, we must make sure to overcompensate out loud. otherwise we might disappear.

the bombs bursting in air

i've never been one for patriotism.
maybe it's the age i grew up in, or the mindset i've always had, but it just doesn't suit. i look back to the times of the revolutionary and civil wars, people fighting for ideals and mindsets and ways of life that were inextricably connected to a country. i see world war two and people fighting for the lives of the captive and against fascism of a country threatening to take over the world. and there were people who were patriotic then...but it doesn't really seem useful anymore. what prevents me from feeling as much for peru or the loire valley or dhaka as i do for new york city or utah or the rocky mountains?
there are admirable and equally deplorable things about my country, just as much as any other. of course i appreciate democracy and the extent that it's practiced. i enjoy having good services and the opportunity to move freely about. i'm grateful for the precedent that a written constitution set for the world. and of course i'm glad to be a part of a country that works as well as mine does. but there are problems (that i don't choose to get into right now), just like anywhere. and my country is not the shining beacon of light and truth to countries throughout the world. people are happy everywhere. some places, a greater percentage of people are happy than we can boast at home. and i'm blessed for the things i have and grateful that i was born where i was.
i've just never been able to muster up very much enthusiasm for patriotism.