Te busco, soledad,
en el paisaje
donde habita en la sombra
mi poesía.
———————————————————–
I look for you, loneliness,
in the landscape
where my poetry lives
in the shadow.
-From Elogio a la soledad, Juan José Araiza Arvizu (1954)
Pre-dawn rain sounds different
on the windowpane facing the callejón
I open the hefty wooden shutters wide
to remind me:
look
see
take it in
this temporary home
temporary landscape.
(Aren’t they all?)
I stare out the window
listen intently
slow my breath.
As if one should never
miss a single soft plunk of water
against glass
drops obscuring hilltown lights
blurring them into fuzzy dots
edges seem so real in bright light
the truth of our boundarylessness
revealed under dark clouds
water-stained panes.
As if something mundane as
early morning rain
is miraculous.
Might this be what it was like
to glimpse manna
glistening like resin in the morning
its name from ancient Aramaic, meaning,
“What is it?”
Perhaps this is the miracle –
seeing something ordinary
with new eyes
looking, wondering, asking,
What is it?
I roll over to where a lover would be sleeping
slide my hand along the smooth flat blanket
solitude lives here
loneliness too
art, music, poetry
friendships and the delight of fleeting connection
but like the raindrops
they look and sound different
in a foreign tongue.
In the casita
on the winding stone callejón
tucked hillside among brightly painted homes
colors gently plunk my soul awake
blur the edges of separation
me and you
here and there
earthly and divine.
Of course
all landscapes are temporary dwelling places
with sunlit spots of rest, soothing, joys
shadows where yearning, loss
the bittersweet pain
of solitude
burrow
this town waking up to gray moist skies
an unexpected morning rain
nothing anyone would call a miracle,
a poet waking up, asking,
What is it?
Here, I look for answers
I look for you.