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What Do You DO When Someone Steals Your Content?

Lorelle Tells It All

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NOTE:

I am taking a new approach to posting entries from now on. From today I will be stating the things that inspired me in writing a corresponding entry, and reveals its intention when needed.

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Take a look at my other blog THE BOOK OF SALAMAT for interactive posts. Each day of the week offers distinctively different kind of interaction and prompt, which I hope are interesting and fun enough to trigger your zest and participation. To go there,CLICK HERE




The kind of relationship I have had with my grandfather was fragile and distant though we live under the same roof. I could not remember a time he embraced me or I hugged him from my early years until the day he passed away. We had never talked over casual topics on casual day-today conversations; when we do it would always be short and and concentrated on a particular issue. No talks of weather, of politics, of local issues. No how-you've-beens and no take-cares. Yes, it is true. Yes, they were expressed through a tradition we called "MANO", it is where the young takes the right hand of the old and lightly press the back of the old's right palm against the young's forehead to express the young's respect. But that's it.

But the blame is shared by the two of us. Yes, he was not the expressive kind of grandfather and he was not the kind who spends some time playing with his grandchildren and, yes, he might have shortcomings when it comes to building a strong relationship with us and creating a free communication path between us. But I also had my fair share of shortcomings. I was one of those grandsons who never expressed their love and appreciation toward their grandparents, too reserved, too stiff, too unfocused. And I lacked the effort to spark a conversation and start re-building the porous castle he had started. When he passed away I did not cry. Not once during the entire wake and funeral. But I did not hate him or dislike him. In fact, I miss him and feel a little nostalgic when I remember him asking me to cut his nails or rub his back or pull his beard with a thing that resembles the forceps (I forgot the name!).

I wish we could have been better as a grandson and as grandfather.





Your hurtful means

of straightening my supple childhood


I once mistook

as your heartless sneering on my existence.


I had never seen

the vastness of your wisdom


And had never fathomed

the depth of your heart.




The bridge that held

your island and mine


Did not permit

the flowing of emotions and hugs.


I couldn't remember

a moment you gave me one.




What you'd implanted

were the remoteness in your eyes


The lashing of your tongue,

the weight of your palm.




But in my heart this I would never let:



Your teeming words to wane like an ebbing tide

And their meaning to get lost in a flooding gall.




Photograph by Lolla_sig. Please CLICK HERE to view the owner's Flickr page. Thank you!

2 Comments:

  1. Brosreview said...
    You, really, brought tears in my eyes. I can write more but I cannot. I am just speechless!!! Wonderful!!! Keep writing mate!!!
    droL said...
    Thanks, Brosreview, for the wonderful motivational words! They flow into me like blissful waters into a dry pond.

    I will definitely write more, for words keep rushing in waiting to be written. But it may take time for me to understand how to put them into writing.

    Have a pleasant day!

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