Ka’io’s Writing

My Favorite Place – My Bed

My bed is my favorite place to be. 

Here I can see my patterned comforter as warm as hot cocoa on Christmas.

My sketchbooks and pencils as scattered as the leaves in the yard,

and my friend sleeping, peaceful as the gentle rain.

I can hear frolicking birds, trickling fountains, and the rustling of sheets.

I can feel the soft cool breeze, the blinding sun, and the soft cushions while I lay back in dreamland.

I can see, I can hear, I can feel in my favorite place, my bed.

Shaped by the Tides

This is a shell

Now it is a home

Its rough textured points

smooth out in a spiral

begging to be touched

 

Inside it is smooth

softly fading from one texture

to another

glowing pink with happiness

 

This is a shell

washed up on shore

collected as a souvenier

of distant memories

and happier times

 

This is a home

the taste of sweet salty air

brings back faint seagull ones

this belongs to the sea.

 

This is a shell

milky white and sandy brown

blending together in

chaotic perfection

shaped by the tides.

 

This is a home

a place of comfort and hope

for something bigger and better

and very far away.

 

This is a shell

This is a home

It has a purpose

This is me

Out of Place

Strangled voices over the loudspeaker calling names, boxes piled around the room and I’ve-never-met-you-before-but-here’s-a-hug strangers dominated my childhood. Looking back, images swirl around my mind making me dizzy and muck up my memory like spilled ink over parchment. I was never very stable, barely staying in one place. Locations were often lost during seemingly endless car rides and long flights across the ocean. I’ve survived 25 airports, 22 houses, and an infinite amount of strange people. I’m at home feeling displaced.

 

The rumbles of engines roar every two minutes as I run from gate to gate with my mother. The sizzle of hot grills fill the air in the food court, aromas from every country fly up, dancing around me with their spicy smells. It’ll be Mexican tonight. I drag my I’m-not-going-anywhere-without-this blanket to the table and wait for my mother to meet me with expertly prepared food that appears like magic on a tray. People are everywhere circling the tables, arguing with vendors and speaking languages that I can’t identify. I hold on to the blanket I’ve had all my life as I sit and wait, hoping no one sees me or hears the lion in my tummy. I am lost in a sea of people and I haven’t even moved.

 

Cut back to Maui, I sit on the floor surrounded by boxes in my familiar hiding place. I was used to moving by now. “Put everything in a box except for blankie, teddy, and an extra pair of underwear, then put the boxes in the living room if they aren’t too heavy,” was my job. These boxes formed a city of cardboard in my living room. Complete with streets and alley ways, hiding monsters and angels, battling for control. It was there I would sleep. In the middle of a cardboard and carpet highway, breathing in the musk of the carpet and cardboard walls. I’d lay there and wait for time to pass and the new home to appear.

 

New houses brought new strangers and unfamiliar situations. When my father would babysit, we’d go to a river, to lunch, then to a friend’s house. At his friend’s house, there would usually be other kids and daddy would disappear. Running around outside until we couldn’t even see the hands before our faces, we’d run inside and I would search for daddy, but he was always gone. So I would sit with the kids, feeling the dirt between my toes and pushing back my long hair that was becoming loose and frizzy in the same ponytail mommy had made that morning. I’d eat what the strangers gave me quietly and ask where daddy was. Soon enough I’d fall asleep with the other kids, sandwiched together like honeycombs on the single beds, only to wake up with sleepy eyes to the sounds of breaking bottles and shouting outside. Finally, daddy was back. He’d pick me up and run through the cold air, back to his truck and away from the violence behind us. Finally, I was going home.

 

I remember my childhood and I think one day, it will be nice to call one place home. Someplace where I can just sit and rest without static voices in the air, broken glass on the floor, or a cardboard city in my living room. For now though, I am content with the easy mobile motions of my life. I can walk with my head held high carrying my cardboard box and my I’m-not-going-anywhere-without-this iPod in my pocket, through the flurry of people waiting at the gate.

How to Heal a Broken Heart

Dealing with a broken heart can be tricky. The key is to cry. Like a drain, tears can carry out all the horrible things inside and deliver them to a far off place. Places like Peru, Bulgaria, or a small village in Somalia. This is the first step in healing a broken heart. Cry, cry, cry. After your first crying session, locate something cuddly or soft. It could be anything from a pillow to a big jacket, or a stuffed animal. The goal is to have something absorbent. This item will absorb all the pain and allow you to feel numb for awhile, like a painkiller.

Once you have acquired said “cuddly” item, turn off all the lights. Darkness lures sadness away from your body and gives your eyes a well deserved rest from harsh light, and constant crying. If possible, turn on the television, preferably to a I-don’t-know-what-I’m-watching-but-I-don’t-care-program. Mindless television distracts the brain enough that the body can focus on fixing your heart.

Now, it is time to tell someone. There may still be pain even after it has been absorbed by soft objects and continuous washing. Telling someone deflects the pain towards friends who can destroy if for you. Tell your friends about your pain. Make sure that they are close friends, no less than three but no more than five. If there are more than five people, the advice may become overwhelming.

You are nearing the end of your first day. Cry again and fall asleep. Be sure to keep the same clothes on as this will be helpful later on.

Wake up the next afternoon and demand every unhealthy food ever invented. Unhealthy food is bad for sad, hurt, and angry feelings. Fill up as much as you can. You may feel the need to cry again. While not necessary, it is allowable to cry whenever you think it is appropriate. If you are expected at work or school, call in sick. This process is going to take all day.

Go back to the television and watch a few sad movies. This will induce even more crying and allow you to reflect on what happened. It is advisable to have a box of tissues and a wastebasket near by. Next, eat chocolate. Chocolate has restorative properties that give you the feeling that you are happy. You need cheering up, and chocolate is made for that purpose.

Go back to sleep; make sure you still have the same clothes on from the day before. When you wake up, take a shower and change your clothes. This will wash away all the impurities on your skin that are holding the rest of the pain in. Change into something that makes you feel good as well as look good.

Perfection: Larry

Larry was always this way.

Dependant on order, perfection.

cabinets of labeled goods.

color coded closets,

shining shears for his tiny lawn.  

Larry’s comrades,

Tools to drag order out of chaos

No blade of grass too long,

no shirt out of place,

no mislabeled soup can.

endless hours of meticulous care.

Determination for perfection

That carried his end

A compulsive disorder that left him.

Alone.

LDR

Land could never keep us apart

We’d find a way to drive the miles

To find the other’s heart

No matter all the pain and trials

 

We’d find a way to drive the miles

Through wind, and rain, and snow

No matter all the pain and trials

We’d drive because our souls still know

 

Through the wind and rain and snow

We’d find a way to be together

We’d drive because our souls still know

Destiny cannot wait forever

 

We’d find a way to be together

Over oceans between us

Destiny cannot wait forever

You are my soul my trust

 

Over oceans between us

We’ll find a way across

You are my soul my trust

My dreams my hopes my thoughts

 

Over oceans between us

To find the other’s heart

You are my soul my trust

Land could never keep us apart

13 Responses to Ka’io’s Writing

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This blog is kept spam free by WP-SpamFree.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.