Betrayed By Self

I often find myself cursing my eyes…
I ask them - why can’t they be more like my lips?
Why can’t they weave lies with the same ease?
Why must they be so transparent? Betraying me with every glance…

I often find myself cursing my voice…
I ask - why can’t you be more like my expressions?
Why can’t you be soft, calculated, and reassuring?
Why must you pitch and waver? Exposing my uncertain with your tone…

I often find myself cursing my heart…
I ask it - why can’t it be more like my brain?
Why can’t you use logic to solve your aches?
Why must you beat so incessantly? A metronome to my indecision…

And as I sit here in the wake of our words
I find I am cursing myself… because you never know what you have till it’s gone.

Pendant Ce Temps…

I decided to take two months off learning french and work, but while I was working I need something to keep me engaged in the french language.

As I was walking home from the school I passed an old book store and found this gem of book.

the next challenge

Beat up, old, and hardly hanging on I decided to buy Deux Solitudes because of the reviews I heard on the program Canada Reads.  Also, I could’t help but feel that reading this book (or trying to read it in french) would be akin to sitting down and hearing an old man dit moi* about the conflict between Anglophones and Francophones in his time. I think it would also add some contexts to the perceived conflict that I see en ce moment*

There’s something about flipping through beat up old pages that have seen things that can never be replaced by an eReader.

dit moi* – tell me
en ce moment* – now/currently