Tempted into Wanting

“What matters in life is not what happens to you, but what you remember and how you remember it to tell the tale.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

.
You hid behind Sweet Dreams
and a smuggled Desire, waiting
for hearts to tempt into wanting.

My eyes often noticed your face,
but my mind couldn’t see you—
I was too young (for the world)
and you were all wrong for me.

But…

…once upon a summery night,
while exhausted and not thinking
right, I touched your Solitude…
The length of it startled all I was.
One Hundred Years all alone?
I thought, took, read you mine.

I’ve kept you close ever since,
always loving you
in word and ink, learning wild
desires and real sweet dreams.

You’ll never be lonely, my love,
words of you dance on my tongue,
feeding old blood into new ink.

You are loved.

.
the wee notes…
– I read One Hundred Years of Solitude before I was a teenager. The book and I met at a beauty salon my mother frequented. The beautician had a rack full of serialized romance novels (Sweet Dreams, Silhouette, Desire) and enough out-of-date magazines to paper the Great Wall of China and thirteen midsize castles with very small windows.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, and to Poets United.


detail from the cover of
Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude
(Ilustraciones de Fabelo edition)
via

Your Words Will Always Be

“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

Death can’t take
the tales you gave me.
Your words will
always be
part of the girl I once was,
of the crone I’ll be.

.
a
(not so) wee note…
Gabriel García Márquez was the first writer who made me admire the magic that can be conjured out of words. His novels, essays and short stories inspired me to ask difficult questions about people, about society and about myself. Decades later, I am still asking… and learning. If he hadn’t walked through The Veil in 2014, he would’ve turned 90-years-young today. I suspect he is still enjoying himself, telling stories to angels and demons… And if dying didn’t change him, he is probably terribly pissed off because Death kept him from living during this time of socio-political chaos. It’s not that Gabo loved trouble, just that his muse was so good at turning turmoil into magical realist art that made most people think.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Every time I look at this candle (thank you, Rommy!), I grin… and wonder if Gabo is also grinning at the sight of himself as “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”.
Happy Birthday, mi querido Gabo.