Words, like travelers, carry a luggage of meanings with them. Similar to wanderers, they set out on the road more or less packed. Each one has its own luggage, regardless of the weight or length. Sometimes it’s a large bag with compartments for every occasion, with hidden meanings, nuances that are not entirely clear. Sometimes it’s just a paper bag, in which almost nothing can be hidden. Word, like ethereal mist, hangs between us and I could swear that it has a taste, color, sound that, even though faded, is still ringing. Sometimes you can feel them, like a caress of a hand, a warm kiss or a punch.
Words are lurking somewhere, ready to sail out. Sometimes they slip away too quickly, and sometimes only every other one slips away. They may save a life, but also take it away. They sound so astonishingly wonderful in their native language. When translated, they become somewhat ineffable and hide something from us. Words can be poor, deprived of what they could carry. Each one is important. Like magical treble clefs, they open staves of memories, dreams, but also of what is today. They can also predict the future, yet should not be completely trusted. They often lie.
There are words like a prayer for hands, mouth, you. There are also those that add up, anyhow, but even this slapdash is important. Something tells about itself and about who opened his mouth. They go away so often and so much is missing. To understand without words is better than understanding every other word. There are also words that we have no time to say. Though no one really believes them. No one until now, because it’s easier to do so later.
What is important to me? My primer. Unhurried daily diary of recorded thoughts.
Child – my child and the child in me. “Child” is not an age, but a state of mind. To preserve the innocence in yourself and admiration of what is simple. Solutions for today, for now, not later, because tomorrow may be even in one hundred years. A short weeping and smiling face. And a child with a note “mine”. Such thing that came from me but now is entirely separate, forever bound with me with the most powerful, warmest and most sensitive feeling. Like a smell of the head on my chest after the first breath. And the one without breath embraced in my hands. My baby.
Stalk – stronger in a group, but very important in isolation. No matter if it’s a sprinkling, such little thing. It is important that every size is tiny at the base.
Family – TWO first, it’s obvious, that’s the beginning. And then the contradictory math equations: one plus one is three… no – four… and five, with an angel in the background.
Mom – the first spoken word. But it is the first heard one that reveals true magic.
Faith – it’s not just what is “out there”, but also “here and now”. A trust with the right to doubt, because only then it’s more real. Without assurances, but with certainty. Faith with closed eyes, calmly, fearless, without penalty.
Wafer – split in silence and embrace of the loved ones lit by colorful lights. The Eucharist of domestic tranquility. Broken with those who give meaning to this moment and all the other days.
Gentleness – almost the same as goodness. Something unspoiled, very first. A weakness, supposedly, but can still overwhelm. The hands of my daughter on my cheeks. A kiss of my son on the forehead.
Trust – it’s certainty. The only guarantee that everything will be alright. Written on the breath. Whispered assurances of the soul.
Hope – more powerfull… o so much more powerfull than despair!
Road – unlike the path. Is it straight, or maybe a trail somewhere in the mountains? Next step and another boulder to avoid. Turns with unknown somewhere out there. Anything but a highway. The wrong road is also a road. Just do not stop halfway through and do not forget that the right way near us does not have to be the right one for us. Even the simplest, widest, the most sunny road may be a way to nowhere for us.
Something – because it’s always there. And if there isn’t, then something else. A presence unquestionable mandatory, a rule of “somethings” not written by anyone. Something is sometimes even everything
Nothing –
Dream – maybe drowse or rather half-awake, as long as it’s not a nightmare, and certainly not a delusion. Let it be long, but not a winter sleep. The worst dreams, however, are those that you can’t wake up from. Just like in the tangle of Hamlet – to be, or not to be and don’t ever wake up.
Fear – anxiety about what will be, and what is now. Yes, I know that there are things more important than fear. But it is such well learned friend. It doesn’t leave us and keeps whispering something into the ear. Fear of punishment, loss, abandonment, the world. Such ridiculous misunderstanding.
Beginning – sometimes it seems that it’s the end and there was no beginning. All beginnings come unnoticed. Like the source and root cause of all this with the conviction that it all started a long time ago. My daughter asks about the beginning of an apple a tomato, where all of this starts. From a seed, that is, but where did it come from?
I love – sweet, but not as sugar, more like raspberry, like a smell of blooming limes. Love, but I love even more. The power of everything.
I know – a word that deceives very neatly. I know, it’s not like that. A delusion which deceits with a sense of power. I know and I feel good, but only for a moment.
Separation – separation is a little less painful than goodbye. For separation you need at least TWO. Sometimes it needs just a few words, but it may also be a silence. Sometimes even rain falls and sun sets. Partings become more frequent like departures to the unknown, like apples, sour, unripe or picked at the time; there are also the sweetest, after which we meet once again.
Desertion – the worst without returns, categorical, dark and bitter. No hugs, cold. Something goes away, yet it remains, but only as a memory, a total lack of hugs. As the smell of perfumes of someone who passed by. Still something lingers in the air, something almost touchable. Unfortunately, only almost…
Request – please stay until morning, until evening, forever. Stay with me. Please be quiet. Play again. Request for one more chance, for forgetting and remembering. For that it would be easier tomorrow.
Pain – it is said it should be learned. I’m learning, but I’m not much of a student and still gather poor grades. Another re-examination… but quite without anesthesia. It can always be even worse.
Coffee – a virtually total addiction. It doesn’t bother anymore. It smells like home after all.
Tears – they already know their way down the cheeks and even lower. They know how to flow. They even climb up to the next level, without tears. Tears without tears.
Wait – so difficult, because without patience. Right now, in this moment, but really not yet. I still wait for myself.
And what about people who have nothing to say and talk so much? Their words are chasing, tangle up themselves and eventually die without recognition. A complete waste.
Picture and book cover © Ewa Kieńko-Gawlik
