selena-janceWhisper

Netherlander

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One mother's songWhen you know who you are and find out who you are not, how can you bother sleeping at night? When it holds us down and it’s done dreaming of the enslavement of billions because it has come to life inside our minds. The days’ endings are coming and seem worse with each passing slide of childhood memories and tearful age. Who you know is so tired. Each and every of the billions’ voices is stifled. / “I know my heart and I love my family. They give me joy though I watch them suffer every day. Of racial profiling, religious hate and sexism. I pray the young will be spared my fate. So I pretend not to see and enjoy all my moments with them because all I can clutch, keep my control of is now, is this very moment. Now is all I can see. No influence on my future comes from me.” / © October 27th, 2013

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Ephemeral consolationI’ve been torn down when lovers’ / knowledge told me not to be protected from / my faithless heart frame. It tells me that

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The Last ActI cannot stop you from loving me but I can start hating you. That would be my last act between us, with all your voice can do to me. When mine grows hard and nothing remains other than kind cruel empty. Then I would fling myself off the edge. / I wonder sometimes what it is like to start all over again, there is little to burn before I could do it. Take that risk. Go somewhere else with no one for a family or close in heart. How quickly I would find that prolific beauty that is stranger than its own kind. - There is this obsession with kindness and the word kind, I see. - But what of that place if it were not there, nothing inside tying its meaning to material existence? Even to all the people I know my kindness grows small and I snap off anything that could take any of me with them. Steal my heart, take my love, in kind, for granted. To use it for selfish grand or minor schemes. I cannot allow. I cannot let it. I will not. / Sometimes I smile and there is laughter, I soften to a response. All that was made before is still there, before anyone knew me, and stole those bits I could have kept. I shield myself, protection in hindsight. Is it still necessary?

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Glimpsing gazeThere is a place in time one / wishes happy endings to arise, but will / not see, that it is meant to

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Song for the departure of empireWe know which sacrifices what we believe in brings / So we will sit together amongst the trees to celebrate, the destruction and the fluster of / All this released creativity. So we know that only with standing together

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(Arabic) Song to a friend*Jij bent een man om gekust te worden, steeds weer in mijn gedachten.* / You are a man to be kissed, over and over in my thoughts. / *Zoals het gezang in het zachte, een blijk is van de zachte aard van diens ziel.*

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Reverie of goodbyeMaybe only slowly, can someone / come nearer, and closer, in thought, / where he might be a sliver

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Killed my heart /prologue Reflected EchoYou killed my heart, what did you do to me? My own skin seems someone else’s, and these eyes, they seem like strangers glaring back at me. When my nails tap the porcelain leaned against my waist they echo harshly. I feel my hair that somehow feels like straw. The long strands wire down like rope. When once I knew warmth there is only distance, not even the cold. / How long to have gone without that touch so pure. Deep throat to the lungs drawing in this air, my breath is taking an eternity leaving my chest. This self knows nothing of it. What has it done to me, this life of this body it longs so dearly to complete the song of her mother. I chose not to make it exist, like all the ones before them. We just are. Sometimes we take that life, this blood surging for naught, pretending it had meant nothing. / These glazed eyes, my callous soul seen too much knows too little. Oh this curse of blessed life. This blessing is cold to my nose pressed against the glass, blowing fogged stains. When will I know this comfort of loving what someone else chose to exist? I didn’t know what it took to keep inhaling, this sacred air, and these holy breaths. The decrepit guard of clergy took these words from us. Outside our choice, much like our parents, our creators, separate from our will. What are we then, but helpless children flailing in thin air?

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The Untaken RoadYou are not for me; I need to let you go. Lack of means in more than one way and prior relations have us locked in our separate positions. If only for once more I could hold you to my breast like I did that one night you called my lips cherubim red and I did not squint. You have not known how much you were the sweetest thing that happened to me in that thin sliver of time we spent together. / We cannot stay. We cannot stay like this. Sometimes the need to see you is strong but I know an impossible affair, as well as endeavour. Sweet smiles shared on the phone summarily lifted the fog on the awareness of each other’s existence. All too familiar and yet a new sound your heavily accented voice was. We had not exchanged a word in months, maybe a year even but how we seemed to breathe the same air and kissed the same thoughts during these nightly hours we spoke. Resounding in the obscure vacuum that was, though cannot be called, a relationship. For this, one needs to know the other often enough, at least in the mind. It is suspended across the space and time we live. / Soon we have the opportunity to meet by chance but if I lived only for this moment I would be wasting my time. Furthermore, I have not thought to bring you anything but myself and maybe a small reminder of the country I live in. This is a little mock bird, supposedly a sparrow shaped thing, tiny mascot to a nationalist sentiment of sports themed victories. Its tail reads two lines to my not so national anthem.

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PurplePurple hair, purple jewellery, and clothes. / Purple everything. The cross between male / and female. Mixed in a painting *** with dried up brush.

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