2020
I wrote this on the flight travelling back to Malaysia in 2020, leaving Australia after what would have been the last time I see the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I was observing the people around me, it was an 8 hour flight with a lot of turbulence, who would have know that 2020 would be that kind of year as well. It is funny how things tell you of what will come in its own little ways.
Looking around absorbing the sensations to accommodate my body to my surroundings,
Infusing my skin with lavender and chamomile to soothe the tension in my muscular fibres.
On my left, a rubik cube frantically trying to solve itself
It is but a process of working out possible solutions and running through know standard operational patterns
Constant rotations occur and in mere minutes the puzzle is solved.
On my right, two European centurians ecstatic to journey to a new land
Partners in life and adventurers ready for new horizons just above the equator
They see spirits and exclaim in excitement.
At 2 o’ clock, a mother and daughter
Going home, going to start a new year
Going into a reunion of blood lines and joyous times
The rodents will tell how the year will nibble through each moon with hopes of prosperity and opportunities.
The sounds of indistinct chatter
Some known to the ear
Some familiar in dialects and neighbouring areas
Asianic gestures and tones that paint the cultural port of Malaysia
A foreign place that I should call home.
I feel the flannel warming my skin
My working shirt sitting at home on my shoulders reminding me to be grounded
Thoughts alternating between past and present
Ideas subdued by overwhelming breaths to attempt sedation
Regurgitation of past meals telling me that being airborne is unsettling.
Seated in between instability and preparation
Unable to lie in knowing how to navigate this vessel
It's like a volatile kayak thrown around by the current and tide
With the lack of weight to stay buoyant.
Transitioning is about staying afloat
Finding balance to keep moving forward while staying safe so I don't capsize
Calming my breath and quieten my thoughts to refuse the concept of fear and uncertainty
This is
A journal still writing its instructions
A present unwrapping
A measure forming its own ruler
A scale fishing for a line that leads to shore.
A year whistling its call to sound off a wave
A storm pushing to the seas to break its form and pull its reign
An attempt to catch the sun and make the most with the daylight.
- Swit Marie
1133AM 22th January 2020
Brisbane
When words fail, she allows movement and emotion to carry her through
A believer in making dreams come true, she would love to collaborate with you
An explorer starting fresh and would only give her best
She stands in the gap and will only call it quits when it's a wrap.
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