I heard it was going to rain today.
I decided that the beach would be the best place to stare at the disappearing sun, the one that hovers just above the sound of the ocean.
To let the rain fall, wet on my fully clothed body, momentarily detached from my soul. Detached, not because of the clothes I wear, but because my soul wants nothing to do with any of this. Anymore.
To wash away this autumn everything that has accumulated into the composed fibers of these clothes, into this stained brownish skin, into this misbehaving body that doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to work, these broken pieces of woman that remind me that while in this daze of being and becoming, all I’m doing is trying. Wash me away. As we get older and the options are getting harder to see, wash me away. Make room for the next inevitable Autumn. For something failing, and falling again.
Don’t we all
want to wash it all away.
To wash away those words, that white man’s only purpose and his unapologies. Those words that remind us of this world we live in. This ugly ugly world. God would do right to wash that man and his purpose away. So that we can safely walk into that place he calls his home. To make it ours. And what is a flood, without a fire. Burn it all down.
Rain, wash the ashes away.
Wanting to wash away the ideas we have of making this world prettier, on the outside. And we dream of making it prettier, on the inside. But neither will ever happen. To wash this idea away would show us the truth of our bones.
to wash it all away.
And don’t we all.
Want to wash away the wanting to wash away. To stop wanting to stop wanting.
But they had it all wrong, and the sun is trying to save us again. The washing away will have to wait until laundry day, or until I decide to make strong in the stillness, and make something of these broken pieces of stone we sometimes find ourselves in.
Jessica Ceballos was born in Boyle Heights and raised in Northeast L.Á., without a middle name. She’s the literary editor at Yay! LA Magazine, she curates the literary arts programming at Avenue 50 Studio where she does her part in helping to make poetry accessible to the community-at-large, and she is 1/4 of the experiment-in-publishing known as Writ Large Press.