new blog post, 23 MAR 2025, Reijer Staats

Writings from Granada

Observe, ponder, be moved, write and laugh at what appears on the page! Occasionally, the beautiful surroundings inspire a few personal rhyming lines. Here I gladly share five pieces from the past year.

A photo of a mural in Granada of Federico García Lorca, with his mouth taped shut with black tape and a look of defiance. He has black hair and intense eyes. The mural is on a wall at the corner of a street in the Albaicín neighbourhood.

Strength

Craving some city vibes and inspiration. And a Moroccan pastela from Panadería María. So, Granada... vamos!

Under the fresh spring sun, a new mural of Lorca caught my eye. Poet and playwright, born in Granada, who used his words to challenge social issues. His voice was silenced, but his message lives on.

A piece appeared on paper:

His gaze charged with defiance

His free speech bound

Do we see here: a parallel?

From then to now conveyed?

Moving from demonising

To its po-la-ri-ty

Walking a path of critical thinking

And tolerance

In the photo, I'm standing on the balcony with a coffee in hand, face in the sun. On the bench in front of me sits a dog. I'm looking out over the residential area in Almuñécar, with the sea in the background.

Woke

Returning from holiday with flu and an ear infection, I read about the Spanish Civil War in the novel "Land of Echoes", watch "Winter full of love" on TV… and Oohhhh! What's happening in the world?

I put something rhyming on paper about it:

A head full of snot, eyes turned inward

Feverishly freed

From all that self-righteous chatter

And the sour human struggle

I yawn – a pop! – breaks everything open

The sun adds colour, warms me too

On the beach, two boys hand in hand

Nice, I'm woke again

The photo shows a typical Andalusian double door in a soft blue-grey colour, with a subtle door handle. Above the door is the number 23 in Arabic script, and beside the door hangs a slate plaque with the name

I take it at my own pace

Healing. For me, it's the interplay between head, heart and gut, behind a gate where emotions hide that haven't yet been felt. If you gently open the gate and let the emotions be, space for softness appears.

After a conversation with a friend about losing my mother, I wrote this poem:

Clenched, I look down

It's stuck, oh yes!

A stone of old emotions

Curious, I walk towards it

A gate, I open it

Something wants to pass, with force

I close it quickly, but now I know:

One day what is hard will be soft

A full moon rises as the sun sets at the same time. Someone takes a photo from a high lifeguard chair, overlooking the sea and coastal hills during the golden hour.

It's about the journey, not the destination

In our first year of emigrating, I wrote about "the warmest welcome smile..." We still occasionally keep in touch by message. "You're in my heart," I read. Gazing at the sunset, this poem emerged:

How are you?

I say I think I'm fine

I know I'm missing something

Not yet sure where to look

You'll definitely find it!

The words, they embrace me

Lovingly walking my path

It's going well! I feel free