i wish

falling asleep to mariachis

hey all, writing from my writer’s retreat. my writer teacher has us write first thing in the am to free write and see what happens (done this off an on for awhile now). right as we awake- we are more open, connected to the subconscious, and many write into places you might have originally intended, or maybe you needed to go. here is my first first thing in the am write from the first day of retreat. highly recommend trying.

enjoy.

sending <3,

KB

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anticipation is the piece of me
seeing pathways in places without maps

it’s a flashlight I turn on inside of myself

it also hurts me too
bogs me down, makes me see things as impossible
when possible

problems of simple puzzles
grow into battles with mountains

i am tested,
the spot inside of myself
grows,
when i leave

leave my home,
leave my country,
leave, usually by myself

and surrender to let it all unfold,
plans are laughed at,
ideas pushed somewhere different

red eye travel,
layover,
sleep deprived,
possible broken engine

i sit and finally just accept,
we might not take off today,
or maybe we will,
but eventually we will fly

acceptance is our hardest fate,
of what is

it is so easy when it is things you enjoy or want

but a marathon, running without training, when
you don’t want it,
hand up, no thank you

clenching, forcing, anticipating, robs
me of peace,
of not knowing,
of just knowing it will all work out

it will all work out,
i am writing this to hear myself say it again,
and then

i wish to be the papels in the air, floating in the wind,
with the soundtrack currently playing of music down the street and voices

i wish to be the freezer full of the rainbow of paletas of colors that only live here

i wish to be the ringing bells, reverberating at hours throughout the day into night, from churches all around

i wish to be in the instruments, in the brass and keys, marching band practicing for the la presidente who will be arriving soon

i wish to be the large sliding glass door i open to feel the breeze

i wish to be the most unique colored concha ever, in a shade in between pink red, existing inside my hand only once

i wish to be the bench where i have my coffee while watching the city wake up

i wish to live inside the buen dias of people i will never see again

i wish to be the plastic on the plate, with tacos on top next to a bottle of coca cola

i wish to be the iguana my cab driver had on the ride

i wish to be the words of kindness the woman who worked at the hotel helped me translate over the phone, to let me know the roads were closing

i wish to be the tires in the cab i found to get me to my next destination

i wish to be the back view of the dad holding their child, alongside the birds, watching the fountain as the sun shines on them in the garden town square

i wish to be the mixture of the birds, music, bells, voices, in a remix of just this morning and the next and next

i wish to be the hands moving in salsa, at the evening dancing in the square

i wish to live in the color furthest away in the sunset i cannot see

i wish to live in the exhale of relief

i want to live in the voice boxes of the mariachis playing down the street, at the house party before i go to bed

i am now living in the solo, the melody, the harmony, the applause, until they fade away

falling asleep to mariachis.