Look up (to you)

When I think of you,

Indefectibly I smile

And I feel proud.

Through the hardships

You stand and fight.

Your most impressive

And secret weapon

Your delicate gentleness.

Let me tell you

your great victory:

Today, I am touched to see

Your precious ones

In their hearts you instilled

the same softness and strength

I see in your eyes.

 
Please big sista

Keep looking up

And beyond

because

I so look up to you

So Thank you.

 
PS: You care so much about us

And always did

So sorry if we forget sometimes to say

We too care dearly for you.

painting by WILLIAM-ADOLPHE BOUGUEREAU

TWO SISTERS

TELL ME AGAIN

Tell me

How you felt

On that day 

Our eyes met

How you dealt

With all the fizziness

in your head.

How your heart melt 

When I held your hand

How you couldn’t help

Looking at me

How my lips 

(Oh! silly lips)

Couldn’t stop smiling.

I know it felt magic

How our hands and eyes were attracted 

How nothing but us existed

That moment was unique

All ours to take

We did 

We made it 

A promising beginning

And an exciting journey

Our story to tell

Our children 

Again and again.

Les mots pour te dire

20170408_153510       20170423_180111

Tellement de choses nous rassemblent

Tant de souvenirs nous unissent

D’innombrables histoires nous soudent

Et scellent nos vies

Nos images se ressemblent

Nos voix se font écho

Et s’allient

Plus fortes

Contre les silences qui s’immiscent

Quelques fois entre nous.

Tes sourires, tes rires

Parlent à mon coeur

Tendrement

Comme une musique douce

S’élance et me porte

Jusqu’à toi

Ses paroles silencieuses

me chantent

La promesse

l’une pour l’autre

de notre présence

L’une à l’autre

Toujours

Essentielle.

SANS UN MOT

Il lui plaisait. Plus elle le regardait et plus il lui plaisait. Il montait dans les derniers wagons du métro. Peut-être que comme elle, il était constamment en retard et ne disposait pas des 2 minutes nécessaires pour longer le quai et monter dans les rames à l’avant, les moins occupées. Résultat: elle le retrouvait parfois et même souvent le matin en allant au travail. Elle s’en réjouissait en l’apercevant et ne pouvait empêcher son coeur de sourire. 
Son rendez-vous amoureux secret auquel, lui, venait sans le savoir. Elle, y venait la tête pleine de sujets à aborder et d’histoires à raconter, elle avait tant de choses à lui dire.

Ce matin-là, le métro était bondé. Il étaient tous les deux debout, au milieu d’une dizaine de personnes. Comme eux, la plupart des voyageurs descendrait après la station de Chancery Lane. Elle descendait toujours avant lui, à Bond Street. Il leur restait donc encore quelques minutes. Il était tout près. Elle pouvait l’entendre respirer. Elle aurait pu accorder sa respiration sur la sienne si son coeur ne battait pas aussi fort. Elle essayait d’apaiser ces battements qui résonnaient dans tout son corps et sa tête quand soudain, elle le vit s’approcher d’elle ou plutôt des portes derrière elle. Il allait descendre à la prochaine station. Bizarre, pensa t-elle. Elle ne pouvait penser davantage, elle essayait de calmer ce coeur trop bruyant qui s’emballait, qui s’emballait.

Sa voisine s’écarta pour le laisser passer. Il s’avança à côté d’elle. Elle pouvait maintenant sentir son parfum.

Le métro s’arrêta et les portes s’ouvrirent. Elle s’écarta à son tour et il passa devant elle. Lentement. Elle sentit sa main prendre la sienne. Sans réfléchir, elle le suivit et descendit avec lui.

WITHOUT A WORD

She did like him. The more she looked at him, the more she liked him.He would get on the last wagons on the Tube, just like her, probably because he was always late and so, could not find the 2 minutes he needed to walk along the platform to reach the first carriages, usually less busy. Consequence: she would find him there, more and more often now, in the morning on the way to work. She was happy as soon as she would get a glimpse of him and could not restrain her heart from smiling.

He was her secret date. He was part of it without knowing it. And she would bring along in her head lots of topics and stories to talk about, there was so much she wanted to tell him.

That morning, the train was crowded. They were both standing in the midth of tens of people. Most of them would get off after Chancery Lane. She would get off before him at Bond Street station. She had a few more minutes with him. He was so close now she could hear him breathing. She could have tuned up her breathing on his if her heart had not been pounding so hard. She was trying to calm her heart from resonating in her whole body and her head when suddenly she saw him coming towards her, or rather towards the doors behind her. He was about to get off at the next station. Strange, she thought. Her thoughts stopped there, she was too concentrated trying so hard to calm that embarassing and noisy heart of hers.

The woman next to her stepped aside to let him past her. He stepped forward. He was now just there by her side. She could smell his fragrance.

The train stopped and the doors opened. She stepped aside too and he passed her. Slowly. She felt his hand. In hers. Without thinking, she followed him and got off the train with him.

SWEET MEMORIES

To help people with traumas, laboratories are launching experiments to find a way to erase bad memories from people’s brain and apparently, they are starting to get successful.
That makes me think about how memories can affect us, especially the good memories ( I don’t feel like thinking about the bad ones). And so I would like to awake and share my sweetest memories that never fail to warm my heart.

In a random order, I smile when I remember:

– The music playing very loud at a wedding party and a room full of tired children just like me, sleeping around me. 

– Slow and lazy Sunday mornings. First, waking up while asking my twin sister: you’re sleeping? Then, going to my parents’bedroom, jumping on their bed and kissing them good morning. Finally watching cartoons with my sisters. Peace before war. (We would surely start arguing about switching to music programmes!)

– The night I met him. His gentle hands, his soft touch, his caressing voice and his deep blue eyes. It felt so natural to hold his hands, to speak to him and to kiss him. I knew him because I had imagined him before and there he was, much more irresistible. I could not get my eyes off of him, he was like heaven to touch and I wanted him so much …. (the song says it all!!!).

I have other memories I treasure, like, sheltering with a boyfriend from a sudden rain, walking home and singing very loud with friends after a night out and the very first time I talked and said I love you to my belly-baby, I was on a bus then…

I love thinking about each and all these sweet memories. What about your most cherished memories?

TRAIL OF TEARS

We had been walking for ten minutes when the road started to ascend and we started to slow down. The weight of the bags were drawing our arms downward and our bodies were leaning forward. The sun was starting to rise. The only sound floating in the air then was the thumping of our steps and the  rustling of the plastic bags.

I lowered my eyes. It was still a long way to go.

In front of me, my aunts were walking steadily. Their sandals were touching the sand and pebble path at the same rhythm, like a small army marching. Their long mourning clothes  were swinging on one side and the other, caressing the soil. After some long minutes, I became aware of a change. In their breathing. It became louder, deeper and quicker. I listened up until I heard it, clearly. The first sobbing. That was the signal, we were nearly there.

I first noticed the white squares, scattered on the hill. More and more as we were climbing to the top. The light from the sun was making my eyes blink.  Trying to find the right one, I realized I could not see, tears welled up in my eyes. They rapidly flowed onto my cheeks. My long sobs joined the others. Impossible to distinguish. Our pain and sorrow were breaking the silence, that deadly silence. We uttered his name, whispered it, shouted it. We were calling him, summoning, imploring him to be there with us, but he was gone.

His wife continued to speak to him, long after us, she was emptying her heart. Her words erupted without any pause. Her heart was still full, full of love, grief and words for him, words she wanted him to hear. It had been unspoken between them but she was to go first. She never thought she would outlive him. She was not to live without him. How could she? Please God, help her to find how.

Our pain finally subdued. We continued to talk to him quietly, holding each other and praying for him. The light from the sun was warmer now. Indistinctly  we could hear children playing, women talking and a baby crying in the distance. A new day was starting.

A light breeze accompagnied us down the road. We offered the bags full of groceries to the poor families who lived in small and dismal shelters by the curvy road. We asked them to pray for his soul. Our hearts, like our bodies felt lighter.

We were walking in front now. My aunts were behind us, closing the procession. They were talking. The cemetery was covering the whole hill now, they could remember it when it used to be a small patch. The poor people living around here were the poorest of the town. That had not changed.
On that day, I saw my aunts were strong. Strong women. And they had shown us, the next generation, how strong we would have to be.