Santo Domingo

by Yakari Gabriel   Feb 5, 2012


I stepped in a shop
today

It smelled like my country-

The native one.

you see, I don't know
how I recognize it.

but,
it felt like,
passing through
a lane of memories you
hadn't walked on in ages.

the fruits were thrown
in boxes
and it seemed like
they too,
had been through hardship,
the kind that makes
you softer and compassionate.

the tomatoes
looked dirty,
red,
and angry.

like a group of people
who were forced
to learn,
to live
with one another
and see who goes first.

I looked at my mom,
she asked me something.

I can't recall what,
but I replied , "no".

that "no" I always
give to what I don't like,
that "no" that slips aways
so easily from my tongue
like a criminal who has
mastered the art of
escaping.

there was something.

something, in that place
it made me nostalgic.

That melancholy,
the type of melancholy
immigrants feel when they speak
about their people,
the type that only
people who walk around
with a hole in their heart
know.

How come I remembered?

that smell,
the very instant I stepped in,
I saw the streets
that could possibly give away,
what my first steps looked like
I heard,
the voices I first talked to,

I sensed the humility of people
my people, the ones I know
much about , but feel very little for.

in there,
I heard my fathers voice
slightly, there,
for a moment.

because, three years ago
he sang me a song
during a car ride.

and just like that smell,
it was engraved
somewhere inside..

somewhere
I was unaware of.

The heart does not forget
the truth, it knows where
it comes from.

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Latest Comments

  • 13 years ago

    by silvershoes

    Stunning. You have a magical way with words, my friend. All sorts of emotions have just stirred inside me, and you are to blame ;)

  • 13 years ago

    by Daisy if you do

    Yaki,

    Holy Crap woman, you have amazed me with some very deep and profound poetry here. This poem was so..... I don't even know how to explain it. absolutely amazing write and this is my absolute favorite of yours. Wishing I could nominate it right now.

    I will have to come back and edit this comment with something deeper. I am going to read this again and soak it in where I can make a better comment.

  • 13 years ago

    by Karla

    Perfect Piece.

  • 13 years ago

    by Blissful

    Yaki,

    You have no idea what you just did to me.

    I have chills...my heart is bleeding with memories...I think any person that has left their homeland and immigrated to a foreign land can relate with your words.

    It's crazy how a distinct scent can take you back to a time, huh? Pressing play on a load of memories...tempting you to ride the wave of nostalgia. I have had a similar experience as well. A scent has taken me back to memories of where I was born as well and it leaves you feeling so distance and detached from the people around you.

    "the tomatoes
    looked dirty,
    red,
    and angry.

    like a group of people
    who were forced
    to learn,
    to live
    with one another
    and see who goes first."
    ^Oh boy, great comparison! It does feel like that, doesn't it? You feel as if you're just thrown into it all with no tools and told to just survive when your heart is just longing to go home..

    The ending was just perfect. I don't...I don't even have words to describe it anymore. I can't wait until Monday to nominate this because it is a winner in my book.

    Thank you for sharing Yaki. I have added it to my favorites and will visit it frequently. <3

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