Lines

Nothing new to report except that I've been thinking about family relationships a lot lately. Mostly dysfunctional ones, but relationships nonetheless. I'm also Looking For a White Elephant. Started working at a summer day camp this week, it's "proper" fun, as those crazy brits would say. My thoughts: "I can't believe I'm getting paid for this." Anyways, I thought I'd post a poem that I wrote last year, some of you have already read it. This poem started as a short story, and morphed into what it is now, a poem and piece of prose at the same time - proem? It's not that good, but it's something I've written that is important to me. (and surprisingly, it's got nothing to do with nerds, cereal boxes, or bouncy balls.) I have wanted to edit this poem many times, but when I write something in a moment, I know exactly what I mean and how I want to say it. Once that moment is gone, the poem becomes its own entity, untouchable. Naive, I know. Lines I fidgeted in my seat inside the plane, and looked down at the vast sands of Egypt. The beauty of this wasteland was shocking; who knew a bare land such as this could be beautiful in its own right? As I stepped off the plane and into this intense heat, I couldn't help but wish I was back in Toronto, where the heat wasn't suffocating, and the language familiar. Making the trip from Cairo to Alexandria was exhausting: A five hour trip on a crowded bus with the same annoying Arabic songs repeating themselves on the speaker. We arrived at our apartment late at night, jet-lagged and hungry. The days passed and we entertained relatives I remembered from our last visit, ones I did not, and some I didn’t even know existed. I saw my nephew for the first time. We served our guests tea in small cups without handles; I burned myself several times. I liked waking from sleep to the piercing echoes of the Adhan being reciting by Muadhins from several different masajid. We didn't need a prayer chart. Friday prayers were crowded; people prayed in the streets and the markets were empty, shops were deserted during the one hour period on Fridays. There was an internet cafe near where we were staying I talked to my friend Sara for half an hour once. And I showed her the crowded Egyptian streets outside the cafe with a webcam. Most men in Egypt smoke; in cafes, in malls, in the street, and wherever they please, making it hard for me to breathe. My grandfather smokes too. The nights passed quickly, and our flight date quietly inched closer. I started packing my suitcase the day before we were to leave. The next day we were typically very late and almost missed our bus. We jumped onto the bus to Cairo, waving to cousins and miscellaneous relatives that happened to be around at the time, and then five hours later boarded our plane with heavy hearts. In a while we were home; tired, sad, and irritable, but home. Though it has been a while since my return, the image that remains vivid in my mind is that of my two-year-old cousin, Mu'awiya, being knocked out in a matter of minutes by the intense sweetness of a bite of basbousa. I remember the white sands of Sidi Crere sliding apart under my weight and making way for my feet. And the blue blue water splashing against the shore in intimidating waves, wiping the uppermost layer of sand into its blue vastness, reminding me of how God wipes away sins when He forgives. I guess, maybe I just miss the chaos that comes along with an enormous family. As I live and experience, I add to the puzzle that is my life, continuously forming a more complex and complete picture of who I am. My trip added a piece to the ever-growing puzzle, but there are still so many pieces that have not been placed. I feel there is so much of life to live, yet so little, for it is God who has decided our fates and when we will leave this life. Some evidence of my journey does remain: a solitary small jar filled with softly coloured seashells sitting on my shelf, and a stack of photographs. Frozen images in my mind.