A Sad Sense of Belonging by Fatima Canovas

A Sad Sense of Belonging

by Ileana Collazo Volume 2

“My wild soul drums to the rhythm of my beating heart.” “I learned all I needed to about creating art as a young girl in my grandmother's garden - where I sat doing what as an adult I call meditating. That quiet spot became my temple. Many years passed before I began to birth the creations conceived in my early daydreams. I started to write fiction and poetry, and then my mind exploded into a galaxy of colors, shapes, and movement as I started to paint on a variety of surfaces, digitally, and then added photography and digital visual art to my artistic spectrum. My art is representative of the twists and turns we take in the course of our daily lives, and of the awe-inspiring beauty that surrounds us. My work is my gift to the world, and to everyone who falls in love with it. I was born in Cuba, and have lived in Spain, New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts. I presently reside in Miami, Florida; where I work and play at Collazo Art Studio with my artist husband Miguel Collazo, four dogs, and cats in the yard. I take photographs - sometimes of all the obvious things that we all see, and others of things we tend to overlook - like items tossed roadside, a section of what I initially see in the frame... - and then, I digitally mix and match the images to create the finished work. When I paint, I allow colors, shapes, and movement to guide me to express the language that floats inside my brain.”

â&#x20AC;&#x153;I paint with words, and write with images.â&#x20AC;? At the dawn of time, visual arts was born, holding her breath until words joined her. Together, they move the senses with a reckless force only matched by nature. I sometimes meld the two to create one experience, and other times let them each forge their separate paths. Music, the elusive ghost, often accompanies me in my creative journeys.

Dedication: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Human beings tend to strive to have as much of just about everything we can amass, but sometimes one perfect thing is all we need. My granddaughter, Ariana Chiclana, is that for me. Gentle soul, kind heart, loyal, faithful, and resilient; she is the flower that blossomed from the seeds of my past, the torch that carries me into the future. Her mellow voice gives my soul wings; her smiling face is imprinted in my heart.â&#x20AC;?

“This time I, again randomly, chose 18 poems for volume 2 to celebrate another significant time-frame of my journey. Sometimes we fly with unseen wings and land where we have never been, but our soul has.A place I refer to as ‘the home of my heart;’ where I became a poet, seasons changed, and years passed as I found myself and - for the first time in my life - was able to freely embrace the essence of who I truly am. New England - now a memory - gifted me with chilly winter mornings when I woke up to a world covered by a thick blanket of shiny pixie dust and icicles shining in the sun; spring flowers and puddles that made me cry from the awe-inspiring beauty of nature’s re-birth; summer days spent swimming in cold oceans, ponds, and rivers that never quite warm up before the temperature drops; and autumn walks through paths covered with orange, red, and yellow leaves that twirl in the breeze and turn brown and brittle as they wilt.”

Artwork Information:

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Ileana Collazo 

Call Me Desire: Lleana Traveling through Time | Manipulated Digital Photograph | 2017 | Ileana Collazo

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Night Garden: Faded Memories | Manipulated Digital Photograph | 2017 | Ileana Collazo

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My Soul Feeds your Ghost: Your Ghost | Digital Art | 2015 | Ileana Collazo

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Human Woman: Human Woman | 2016 | Ileana Collazo

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Waiting: Waiting | Manipulated Digital Photography | 2016 | Ileana Collazo

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Alone with Her Thoughts: Alone with Her Thoughts | Manipulated Digital Photography | 2015 | Ileana Collazo

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The Past is Always Near: The Past is Always Near| Manipulated Digital Photography | Ileana Collazo

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1997

Astray by Ileana Collazo I am a thief who steals from herself, jewels of time the shape of beads of water; so hard to grasp, exploding in space, as I labor to string each one into a necklace my naked throat to dress, my dried-up flesh to moisten. Like tiny pearls, they roll under the carpet as the clock announces the time of my departure. In mourn, I dress, embraced from head to toe by frosted satin that slithers in the wind, as I tread through muddy passages, fighting my way; headed nowhere, again. Lexington, Massachusetts, February 17, 1997

Consumption by Ileana Collazo To fall inside the sacred fire, to be devoured by golden flames, to quench the thirst of my desires until my flesh loses all sense. But you lie still - listless, asleep your breath softly escaping your lips, your right hand tucked under your chin, a lock of hair upon your brow. I tuck my body into the curve, you sculptured when you turned, lifted my chin and stared at you; which for the moment is enough. Lexington, Massachusetts, February 23, 1997

2014

Cast your Net by Ileana Collazo Erase the past, and cast your net into the future; far and wide, so that it traps the world inside it. Pry open an oyster and pluck its pearl to wear around your neck with a slim silver thread. Eat bread and cheese seaside at a French cafĂŠ while you sip wine; and dine in bed by candlelight. Close your eyes for one second, open them again, and look around. Run your fingers through the air, catch kaleidoscopes of light; cherish the beauty of that moment, and stash it away to light the future when winter nights appear endless and slate-grey skies paint the days colorless. Miami, Florida, May 14, 2014

Call Me Desire by Ileana Collazo Come closer, let me whisper in your ear, tuck away your dread, allow me to steer. The wind died down at sunset, the night is dark and starless, the moon has gone astray. Let us lock in an embrace; donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fret, donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t pace, erase the fear from your face. With my bare hands, I will not touch you, with my moist lips I will not brush yours; but I will take your breath away and leave you dazed. Call me Desire. When daylight comes I will be gone; perhaps I was not there at all. Remember me as a mirage of daydreams that never come true. Miami, Florida, May 20, 2014

Night Garden by Ileana Collazo At night, in the garden, I melt into the shadows; while the crickets chirp, and the stars prick holes in the charcoal sky, and the flowers sleep on their earthy beds. I hum an old song, while the breeze gasps and dies as it strikes the tree under which I sit on a wooden bench that time has weathered. If the sun and moon ran away, I could stay right here and never be found. Miami, Florida, July 7, 2014

My Soul Feeds your Ghost by Ileana Collazo You may be dead, but you live inside my head; polluting my brain, squeezing my chest. The thumb on my temple, the bitter wine on my tongue, the feet that trample my dreams with metal boots that can crush. You come and go as you please, I plead for you to move on, but you refuse to let go, because my soul feeds your ghost. Miami, Florida, June 9, 2014

2015

Human Woman by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we fall in love with someone who does not exist, try to change someone who will never yield, love ourselves less than we do others, daydream at night and sleep the day away. Sometimes we think things we should not think, say things we do not mean, wait much too long to do things that need to be done, and end up sitting on a bench alone. Other times we suddenly take a turn and let the summer breeze whisper to us, and let the sunlit shadows lead us to places we would not have gone. October 20, 2015

Worshiping the Goddess by Ileana Collazo I pray that when you pray you do so in the universal temple, where the whispering you hear comes from leaves rustling instead of humans gossiping; and the glitter and sparkle comes from jade bathed in light, wet rocks shimmering, and dew drops beaming; not from necklaces and rings. Where the rich and the poor drink from one waterhole and killing is done, for sustenance; not greed, jealousy or hate. I pray you pray for innocence and grace, and for knowledge to take ignoranceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s place. Amen - Namaste. Miami, Florida, December 24, 2015

2016

Bleeding Heart, Paper Wings by Ileana Collazo A door opens and closes, the floor creaks as footsteps stroke it; light shines, but too quickly fades, turning morning into darkness. Devoid of all other sounds, only her breathing is heard mingled with the stifled whimpers of a soul too limp to cry. Twenty-four hours have passed; lost in time and gone too fast, while the minutes dragged too slow. Thoughts entangled in a web, tongue too dry, eyes open wide, arms hanging limp by each side. Too late for prayers, too early for death; too angry to reason, too tired to flee. Miami, Florida, January 30, 2016

Reminiscing by Ileana Collazo Woven into silence are the echoes of all those unquiet thoughts we are intent on repressing for fear that we are digressing into a darkness so black that it turns the air to ice trapping us inside. Any sign of life is welcome, until we become aware that not all things are divine, and not all blood is wine. From vines, we hang with a grip so tight that broken fingers make us whine. Once the silence breaks and new tears are shed; our open wounds start to heal, our broken hearts start to mend, and our sorrow takes flight. Miami, Florida, March 7, 2016

Waiting by Ileana Collazo To slip through the cracks into a space so tight; to slither on the grass in a drizzle so cold. To wait in vain, in pain, for all that never came and never will. As the hours pass, and the earth turns bright, then dark; and the heart expands and shrinks, and the tears and lips are dry. To know that it is too late, but to remain inert eating dirt served on broken plates. The calendar reads May 10th, But, for me, it gets dark at 5 oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;clock as eyelids flutter like trapped butterflies and doors shut tight leaving the world behind. Miami, Florida, March 25, 2016

Alone with Her Thoughts by Ileana Collazo Isolation leads to devastation that cracks the soul; carving a passage for thought. Abruptly, the silence explodes -turning itself inside outerasing all doubt. Creation re-created by the space inside a brain too cluttered by chatter. The blood rushes to the stem, filling up with pools of words that rush freely to her brain. Like chimes that clatter in the wind that brings the promise of spring that ends the darkness of winter. April 28, 2016

The Past is Always Near by Ileana Collazo When I was small, an old man with a limp would sit me by his side, point up to the sky, and tell me that one star in the milky black was mine. To what I would reply: “I want it, bring it to me.” To what he would rebuttal: “It is not yours to hold.” “What is the point? I would ask. “Why own it just in name?” “I do not want it, then.” Today I sit alone, and stare up on my own; the woman I have become, much like the girl I once was; still wishing for that star, and praying for it to fall. Miami, Florida, May 1, 2016

2017

My Heart Bleeds at it Beats by Ileana Collazo My heart bleeds as it beats, sipping the life out of me; skipping like a child when it should tick like a clock. My lids flutter in my sleep as I tread forests of thoughts; getting entangled in branches, scraping caked dirt off my feet. I neither drink nor eat; nothing I do is real. I float away in a vacuum left by the things I have done, people that I knew and loved, places I once held so dear. A cloud of dust picks me up and takes me up to the sky where silence pounds in my ears, a suit of amour restrains me, a finger presses my heart, and drains my last drop of blood. Miami, Florida, December 23, 2017

We are never Free by Ileana Collazo We are never free, each choice we make commits us to a task; each step we take sets us on a path. We can see the past; real enough to feel, but we cannot go back as with each day, it disappears. The first kiss that warms our lips, the cup of tea drank on Christmas Eve while the children sleep and we wrap their gifts. The parents that are always there - until they go away, never to return and a veil of tears blinds and enrages us. Hostages of life, we ride a speed train headed towards a tunnel where darkness will engulf us. Miami, Florida, December 26, 2017

Victorian Garden by Ileana Collazo Each door screeches as it opens; I paint one blue, one green, one red. Beyond the last one is a bed dressed up in a white lace bedspread I do not dare rumple in sleep, so I lay on the polished floor that I have trodden since my youth. Alone and cold, I lay so still, while snow falls softly on the trees; sculpting tall mounds on the path leading to my Victorian garden where nothing soft now grows; except for one snow flower that looks up at the sunless sky knowing that it will not last long, but for one day is reigning queen. Miami, Florida, December 27, 2017

One More Year Leaves to Meet the Past by Ileana Collazo The year is almost packed, eager to leave to meet the past where all the years before it wait neatly stacked in memoryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s vault. It knows that it will become history, and for a short spell be the craze with all the fervor and the buzz that renders moments immortal. But when the New Year prances in, dressed in gold, silver, and glitter and all the brand new possibilities that always accompany youth, its notoriety will fade; most of its good days forgotten, the bad ones splattered with shame. Miami, Florida, December 27, 2017

All the Pretty Fish by Ileana Collazo I swim in the deep ocean at night, where all the pretty fish I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see swim by me in the blue-black water I skim with my body dipping my head, turning it sideways for a breath. While the waves are cut deep by slivers of moonlight, and the stars prick holes into the crumpled blanket that opens and closes as my arms move in tandem, and a breeze chills my bones as it blows off the clouds. The shore behind me, the horizon ahead of me; always moving away as I keep heading towards it. As the sun slithers up like a golden pendant, and the sky and the ocean turn a pale blue, a swift silver bullet that barely touches me a second time bumps against me; and I fear that my life will soon be ending, but it just disappears, leaving me breathless. Miami, Florida December 28, 2017

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