A Cairenegirl's Blog

June 4, 2016

My Bennu

Filed under: Creative Writing,Uncategorized — CaireneGirl @ 8:02 am

There’s a bird I see, sometimes when I walk the dog, it looks like a heron. Long saffron flamingo legs, white cotton grey bodice, two crested feathers on the back of her head, a yellow long beak. I am not a bird watcher. I don’t know birds, but the Bennu has always been a part of my life. I have taken photos of her on my phone to prove to myself that she’s there, that I haven’t imagined her. I sometimes glance outside the window and look for her, but I rarely see her behind the glass, I have to physically go out. Then, there she is, going about her business, hopping from grass, to branch, to Sycamore tree searching for a worm or a small mouse.

Each departure my heart sinks, the separation feeling like hundreds of years, without guarantees of return, without promises, a frolic, a skip and off she flies – leaving me behind. Where are you going? Do they need you as much as I do? Don’t leave. Stay. As if I could tame a Bennu, or entice a deity with any of my mundane capacities, food, water, shelter. There is nothing I can provide that isn’t in abundance all over the world. I hope, I pray, I beg, for it to find the need to return to my insignificant little patch of jade. I am impatient, and the longer I wait, the more apathetic I turn, hating her power over me, drowning in my own head, and deciding to be blind to all the beauty around me. At my lowest, on an insignificant day, with the rising of the sun, she surprisingly reemerges. From the ashes, I carve soothings words that revitalize my soul. I write stories of the Bennu, for the Bennu, so she can stay. She speaks to me.

I am both the regal ruby gold phoenix and I am the goliath grey heron. I am, sometimes more one, than the other. I am, the exciting fiery deity, the rising sun, soaring, my loud cries undeniable. I am transforming air, time and space into floods of life. I am also the small, common two toned grey heron, perched outside your window, smiling at your confusion, reminding you of the beauty of the drab, the magic of the ordinary, and the importance of being both.

In order to fly forward you must forget about the two feather crest on the back of your head.

May 11, 2010

My teddy bear

Filed under: Creative Writing — CaireneGirl @ 6:26 am

Its velvety touch, so comforting, so smooth, it took her back to those days of innocence that carefree time when she was so happy. The highlight of her day was riding her bicycle, exploring the woods, and feeling the wind in her face. She was so naïve, so young, so open to conquer the world. She was seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses and she didn’t even realize it. She had Snow White for a caretaker and thought that this was what everybody had. She had more friends than she could count and more family relatives than she could name. She thought all relationships ended up in happily ever after and had never noticed even her own parents having a fight. She didn’t realize that she was average or maybe even below average at everything academic. She didn’t worry about her grades, being the best or even failing. Everything she did was rooted from pure desire to do it; who she played with, where they went, what they did. Sports were for pure pleasure not competition.
The food she ate was for pure love of it. No thought went to the amount of calories that were in it or its nutritional value, just the simple untainted fact of loving it and therefore eating it. She didn’t think twice towards how much money it took to get that dinner on the table nor did she feel a glimpse of shame for not knowing. It’s not that she was royalty; it was just how it was.
She possessed the most beautiful canopy bed with soft pink cotton sheets, the most treasured books with their unique sent, and the most portrait like family. She believed that anything that was wrong could be changed. She trusted that good would always conquer evil. She felt the security that all her problems would go away with a fatherly hug and a motherly kiss.
There wasn’t a questioning of God, of rituals. Everything she believed to her core without the possibility of doubt. She couldn’t fathom the notion that religion can incite fear and hatred, not simple love and compassion.
She had an entrenching steady love for her home, for the country of her birth, for seeing it as the best and most perfect place on earth. For seeing her people as the most kind, most clever, most humble people on the planet.
She had never had nightmares nor had she ever feared that the world would overheat, explode from a giant meteor, or fall underwater because of a giant endless tidal wave. These were unimaginable ideas, that the human race and she included were causing or could ever cause the earth’s destruction.
She assumed that all the people you loved would never get sick and would never leave her.
She had relentless ambition, insurmountable dreams and endless scaleable mountains to climb.
She never thought that being a woman was limiting. She didn’t even have a glimpse that with race came certain disadvantages.
Today, she craves that naiveté and she wishes she could live by that untainted view of the world.

April 2, 2010

The transformation

Filed under: Creative Writing — CaireneGirl @ 6:19 pm

I am becoming an ugly, old, dirty turtle. I don’t know when it happened. I think it’s something that happened gradually. The transformation was slow indistinguishable by the naked eye. It was creeping on. At first, only I could tell. I ignored it for a while. I buried it to gain more time. Then, the changes overloaded and happened. All I know is that I’m stuck and I’m tired. I can’t feel any of my toes. It’s not that I’m paralyzed. I am not sure if they went numb or if they’ve fallen off. All I know is that I don’t feel them. They have made my ability to move even more challenging. I find it so difficult to move, so tedious. One step feels like I am coming back from the dead. It’s hard, difficult and pointless. Yet I must move to get my food. Although, I no longer care for it. I also need to move to get out of harm’s way. Yet it is so tiring and so painful. Sometimes, I feel that if I lay completely still, motionless, dead-like, I will avoid endangerment. I will hide inside my shell and all will be well.
People don’t like me because my skin is prickly, thorny and foul. They feel I’m waspish and I must admit I am. The minute I get an opportunity, I attack, and I am ruthless. Why shouldn’t I be? No one has been merciful to me. Why must I be the compassionate one? I am scared. I don’t like being scared. I don’t like feeling threatened. This is why I turn dark and angry.
I am trapped, enclosed. Sometimes, I feel like I cannot breathe. It would be easier if I stopped breathing. But the merciful God has another plan; he wants me to continue. To trudge on because what is life, if it is not to learn to bear the unbearable. So I learn to like my confinement, my incarceration. I have made it pretty, I have made it tolerable. I can stay here forever. I can limit my wants, my needs, my ambitions to fit in here. The problem is that people keep approaching me, expecting me to be the butterfly I used to be. She is not here. I would like to put up a sign saying “Moved out- Gone to Siberia- No Replacement- No forwarded email-Please leave ugly miserable turtle alone”.
I am inaudible, and mute. This helps me go unnoticed. I have no color either, I know most turtles are grayish green but I am translucent. It’s because I have been diluted. I have been put in water on a daily basis ever since my transformation and soon I hope to be empty, a nothing, a shell. It is possible. I know it can be done. I will then attain my happiness; I will be heartless, bloodless and soundless.

March 22, 2010

Unverbing

Filed under: Creative Writing — CaireneGirl @ 10:18 am

She was unenvied by the masses because she was uncomprehended. How could she have thrown it all away, they thought? She was unaccustomed to their unforgiving eyes. She didn’t want to undissapear  to unscream and to unfail but she already had and there were no second chances. Everything possible had already happened. She uncontrolled the past by unexplaining what had happened even to herself. Why she was this way. She wanted to unlose herself from her addiction but it was too late all had been destroyed. She could not unturn the wheels of time. She undeserved the attention and wanted to uncreate the horrors of her past. The past events were unreachable and unchangeable. She wanted to unfeel them. She wanted to be unashamed and to unrid herself of the guilt. She was undriven to continue to pursue life. Yet she continued to breathe in and out. She wanted to unbreak her life. How could she put it back together? The days and hours unshortened and everything seemed like a blur. How many days or years had gone by? Why was it so unproblematic to stay alive, to go through the motions of the day? She wanted to unmarry and unbear her children. She wanted to undrive her car that day. She wanted to unsurvive. Every day, every second was unbearable. To undecrease her miserable exixtence she became sober and has been every second since. She wanted to unreward herself. She dragged herself to work to continue the unlife.  She was an unbeliever now but if there was any greater power. She believed it to be unexisting. Because if it existed it would have equated the balance by making her unlive and unbreathe.

Growing Stairs

Filed under: Creative Writing — CaireneGirl @ 10:13 am

I woke up to find myself moving towards the noise. I didn’t know where it was coming from. I grabbed a book, as if whatever would harm me, would be or could be, stopped by a book. I reached the stairs of my house to find them growing. I started to go up and to my surprise another step got added. Where are these steps leading me? To a glowing warm light, and miraculously bright. I want to get to it. So, I patiently wait for each step to appear. What is up there? I wonder. It is definitely supernatural, not of this world. Is God up there? Is it an angel? Are there aliens? Or am I just in a dream waiting to be woken up? The stairs seem endless now. I look back and I can’t see where I started. I only know that I must continue, I must find out. It didn’t feel that long ago to get to where I am. Looking back, I realize how much I’ve climbed. My curiosity is killing me and I know I have to find out what is behind this light, these growing stairs. So I journey on, I am not tired.

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