Aimea Lunar Reconstruction


part of: SphinxWorld

by Teresa Dunyati-Long

I always know when things
are about to happen,
Like the time I looked over at my mom
Standing in her living room
3 years and 7 months after my father’s death.

In the very moment light bounced off her face,
Entered my retina,
And formed the feeling of
everything she has ever meant to me,

a voice in the back of my mind said,
“this is the last time you will stand in this room
With this woman.” Yeah, a chill passed through my spine,
My limbs quivered, then I left, went to a dance meditation retreat
In the beauty of a south Texas winter as though
that moment
Had not just happened, because that is the way life
Really is.
She died 11 months later while I was in
Graduate school 2400 miles away. I have always been
Somewhere far away
On the run, doing the stuff I think I have to do
Before I die, because that day is coming,
I feel it already, but I made a promise
To someone else I love;

My Dad.

There is something I have to do for him
Before I am done. I can feel that too, and

It is happening. Anyway, that is how I know. Voices
From different processing centers in my brain
Talk to me in their common lingo:

Words. They tell me about how I feel about
this person or that, think about
that situation or this, always in the
Passing rapidly because
The Present
Is as virtual as the
Future or the Past. But I digress. I think the voices
are neurons caressed by
Transmitters erupting into
thought. You’ll have to think
Whatever it is
Your voices
Tell you.