Witted Shadow

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Every new month is like adding a page to the book that is our lives, each with its stories and blessings, new music to our ears, new sound in the accordion, the poem on the corner.

It is March, the third month of the year or as we say on the streets, the second full blown month of laughter, smile, fun and jamboree. The sun is out, the spring peeks in, the leaves are saying hello and the birds sideways quietly singing the melody.

It is time to celebrate woman, us, grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunts, daughter, girlfriends, us; the best friend, the sharp-witted shadow, your mirror in the powder room, the incessant lover, the proud your secret carrier card member, the tough cookie in the carousel, the cryer in the closet, the eternal artist, the rock star listener, the truth teller, the soldier in the room, the amen companion. It is March, it is us, women, it is March. 

The Angst of the Sounds

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As the clouds begin to stream
The night gently moves in, unabashful
With its many ghosts and fears
And its many stories to tell
It pours in, looking for a place to park
And a soul to save.
But allow me to tell you one more
To help you fall asleep:
In the quiet hours of the night
The wind blowing unadulteratly
An angel appears
Tucking you to bed
Sniffing the cravings of the night
Silently watching over you
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So, my dear my bell, say hello to the angst of the sounds
The perils of the darkness
Sleep tight, the angel says
And happy dreams!

© Angela Aguiar

My Hair In The Chopping Block

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The room was suddenly quiet, barely there, in completely stillness. There was a gaze in the air. It was thin, piercing, echoing the calmness before a huge storm. Coughing no one dare to flare. Crappy conversations were not heard. Gossip barred in the interim. Hairdryer blasting only heard in the next door. No water running. No empty field to fly to. There was just a vacuum in the corner and that’s all I saw. She waited for me to say something, a word perhaps but I wouldn’t. I was just there, staring, numb, livid, eyes red. No one dared to say a thing. No one dared to ask. No one dared not to be silent. Dejected, my soul left me momentarily, freezing for a split second in space.