THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



I am that which is...


When you have nothing but what exists behind your eyelids,
When you have failed in all that you have strived to achieve,
When you have bended, broken, and fallen into the casted,
Then there, without more ado, shall you know and recognize benevolence.

A moment previously I angrily spat on the floor as I entered a room.
I cursed the air that I inhaled.
I pounded my fist upon a table.
I hated that I had been referred to as that which I was not.

I intertwined my fingers and grasped my forehead with the palms of my hands.
I squeezed aggressively.
I pulled my hands back over my hair and onto my neck.
I then realized that I was not – what I was not.

I am a son,
I am an uncle,
I am a brother,
I am a loved family member,
I am a good friend to many that are good friends to me.
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