The Heart of a Princess
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Apr. 28, 2009
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What is Life?
My Dearest~
I must not forget this person. Manuel. It's a beautiful name I have naught but a clue to what it means, but I have placed a face on it. A person belongs behind that romantic sound. He works in a Wal-Mart as a casheer in electronics while he's getting his Bachelors degree, first mastering in English, then in Spanish. He's a patient person. He's a poet who can write and translate between the two. He started out translating Rudyard Kippling, a spanish poet who was at the hight of the romantic era in Spain, and Shakesbear, just to see how he would fair. And sudenly there the tallent lay! his poetry brought his life into it's epitimy There lay his purpose.
"Purpose plus passion equals legacy"
And in the last few years he wrote the entire Christmas story as a poem starting with sudden inspiration on the way to work. As if scribbling pages of notes and two stansas on a moving bus wasn't enough of a feat. Most times it comes at 3:00am when you can't seem to sleep.
His inspiration comes from the Bible Mom said he has an incredible mother. I believe he has an incredible God.
And he's humble too.
He's completely not a part of my world, but I, I want to be able to stand by my work and say "This is the hand of God!" not go silent for lack of nerve. And maybe he never mentioned God directly at first, be faith, hope and passion were his mantra. If God isn't love, than what is he?
I wish I could sit there and just listen to him quote his poetry, wether in English or Spanish, because whether I understood it or not, I would have sat awed to silence. Because I am not a person of words. I strugle for days to find the words for a simple report or for my diary and yet they flow from him like his own breath. No it's not my talent. No, no I don't envy him. But I wish...I wish I could learn to be so committed. Or, or something so sure of my talents. It's going to take so much prayer to be like that.
But he showed me something. That there really is a reality of those who God sends impossible gifts, giving the duty of showing his glory to others. And since I could not possibly tell him such a thing without it sounding wrong (I'm ,..not good in way of profound speach) I will draw him somthing.
I will draw him something to corrospond with his last poem he told of, in which he described the meeting of the Puerto Rican and American sides of his life, and of what had been birthed from that comprimise. In the end, he said, he even compared it to a couple.
I will draw something in red. Birds, caught mid-flight of their quarting dance, to show that he can only fight on to move forward. I only pray it will tell him all I can not say.
Dazzeling Blessings,
~Gabby C.~ ><> |
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