Imprints Left in Mind and Flesh

I lived a year in Beirut, Lebanon. At 18, I had no plan. At 18, I had nothing stopping me. I lived that year between the worlds of fiction and reality. I can see now that the two mixed, their roads merged into a sloppy but beautiful arrangment. I was at the end of my helpless phase in youth and at the beginning of a small slot of freedom without consequence. I was overwhelmed, sad from the process of weaning, a little manic, but extraordinarily happy. Curiosity killed and rejuvenated the cat. The weather matched me, the mountains mimicked isolation, the lights from below always seemed to be moving. They were the hope I wanted and sought out to the point of delusion. I wanted to reflect everything around me, all the curling and spewing and talking and laughing. Always tasting the salt for the sea, feeling the rush of driving so fast in a car up country. I found wisdom there- worn, tested, proven wisdom provided like drinking water. Coffee grains that can speak when looked at with the right eyes. Lighting the candles at the martyrs square downtown. Every day the buildings as a screaming contradiction between innovation and tradition, time heals everything except bullet wounds. I found overwhelming beauty in eyesight at all times while there, and yet scars- many scars. Life and dribble and unruly emotions, all the motivation, all the charisma, all the loss- including the potential to lose what is already there- giving birth to all of this.

I remember my first week there- a group of new friends, same age as me, equally drunk off their youth, decided we would jump off the beach rocks of Jbail, to the Mediterranean. On my drive up country to meet them, the sea and the view opened up for me, my ambitions bloomed with my vision, full of excitement for what the year would hold. Each road lined with children are running, playing ball in old coves, women hanging clothes and humming ancient tunes, men drinking coffee, my car filled with strings of smoke and gardenia flowers and salt.

??I finally reached the rocks, snuck onto the property to find my friends.

That day, surrounded by curiously new faces, new friends, none of us thought about deadlines,?marriage, religion, visas, time, the future- none of the things that had permanent residence in the back of our heads. None of the things we knew we were always told to prepare for.

That day we joined hands, closed eyes.

Counted down.
??Three, scream,
Two, laugh,
One Jump.
?Hit.?
Emerge.