Skip to main content

The Art of Release

I went to an art show on Friday, March the 3rd.
It was a small gallery,
with open space,
white walls,
and rustic corridos channeling from the speakers.

~*~*~*~

The artist "performed" an act of release by pouring water into crystal glasses,
dipping her fingers into them,
and rubbing her fingers on the rims of the glasses.
It was a rubbery kind of sound that,
after some time,
turned into whistling chimes.

~*~*~*~

As she maintained the chiming sound of the crystal glass
she said, "If you will, close your eyes. Think of one word that signifies what you would like to release"                                                      "and take a deep breathe"                         "now exhale."

Tears roared up past my throat.
My nose flared,
my jaw jittered,
my teeth bit my bottom lip,
trying to keep the rushing waters down.
The tears streamed from my eyes
and with my hands,
I quickly wiped them away.

Popular posts from this blog

I Am

I am a first born      first generation American        Mexican My name derives from my father’s mother María Magdalena      and my mother’s mother Carmen My mother wanted                   Mayan moon goddess Itzel                   or Hebrew princess Sarah names with roots other than our own No one in my family calls me by my first name María                a Latin                             Hebrew name for sea of bitterness, rebellion My family only calls me by my middle name Carmen                a Spanish                                  Latin name for ...

Dream #414

I was on a bus on my way to a new school, a high school on the south side of Chicago. I transferred to that school because I had moved into the area. The bus went south over a dark brick road bridge--it was dark because it was a gloomy day out--like the sky was heavy with rain. This new school was completely new--metal framework with floor-to-ceiling windows, open floors. The class body was mixed, with a majority being black and white students. I went to the second floor to wait in line at a check-in window. A very chatty boy behind me bumped into me and as I turned to look at him, we both felt an immediate attraction--we are both brown, we are both alternative. I'm reminded of my husband, I remembered I have a husband--maybe in that life or another--so I keep the boy in mind to feel less alone but ignore him as I wait in line. I'm outside in the vast woods that is the campus of the high school. There is a pond and there are green rolling hills of different sizes, all moving l...

Carnales (after Terrance Hayes)

We’re like kids              running under shooting               red fire hydrants, us,      standing in transparent tanks & heavy shorts under our home’s gutter drain.  “My turn,”                I remember you say but I don’t move. Instead,                I close my eyes &                remember mom,      twirling in her long denim-blue dress              on our porch                             under the rain. Mom would take us                outside in the rain                to bathe together,    ...