onto my screen "querencia" saunters announcing herself fresh like an ocean breeze and like the lightest foam on this sea's shore she is the trending word she is trailing her footsteps all across the social media sand dunes "querencia querencia querencia" i repeat after the computer-generated voice google translated "querencia"—its quick to softness melts in my mouth i'm caught i like it and i succumb like butter to the sun "Gotcha!" she laughs with a wry wink and a wave and saunters again, this time off towards some shimmering coral-pink horizon beyond my screen querencia~querencia~querencia* my love my heart untamed roses and my diamond in the sky *a Spanish metaphysical concept on the place from which one's strength and/or inspiration is drawn; where one feels most authentic, safe, and at home
purified, clear light everywhere in darkness shines music for the deaf vision for eyes wanting sight and for my heart, the road home (waka poem: 5-7-5-7-7)
What is hope, other than a beacon of clear light in the darkness? Wind behind sails crossing unknown seas. The moon in a sky of desolation. And, a heartbeat in the chamber of silence and stillness.
When we struggle, when we fall and despair, are utterly broken and feel lost, hope is the very thing that sees us through.
How does hope come to you—in your darkness? What is your moon, and from where do the winds blow? What sound causes your heart to beat?
Even if we cannot see it, hope is that eternally rising sun on the eastern horizon—bringing with it, daylight into the night. Whether we like it or not, are ready or not, whether we open our eyes—or not… hope rises, again and again. For sometimes there is a certain comfort in the blanket of darkness, in being unseen and seeing not. We would rather evade, than wake up to our own hearts’ desires and truth.
But hope, in its benevolence and persistence, will inevitably pierce that shell of illusive security and cast all shadows into the light. So go ahead already—shine. It is your birthright, and your destiny.