Tiffany Céspedes, ’26
Paintings in the Present
Present:
Free from grappling with the future and liberated from the strangling hands
Of the past.
To be engulfed in his arms the taste of warm white leche,
Silky smooth off the tip of my tongue,
When the day settles in and the night has begun,
When the hourglass has run dry of sand
My fingers finally lock in yours and
That is where I find you.
Like a fawn finding its comfort in the heart of the forest
I sit here in this hidden nook staring endlessly into this deep-set abyss
Wondering if it’s safe to descend once more
To dive down into the dark and the delphic and still find a place to be held
In the warm milky white arms that soothe the thorns on the stem of
A weathered rose.
The keeper of contentment
You have taken hold of my days
Like the lights of Apollo and its transcendence.
Present like the endless days of summer when our sun-kissed skin met
The soft dew of grass under blankets of brisk night skies
Searching for stars not yet seen yet finding them somewhere in between
Heaven and earth.
Somewhere amid my heart and your mind
We longed to find the beauty in intelligence
And the serendipity in a soft heart,
A symphony of gentle eunoia mixed with unorthodox nefelibata:
An orchestra of beautiful thinking and walking on clouds.
We are the sounds to a song of words not yet known
And the taste of warm white-chocolate milk in autumn days.
We are the color of cafe con leche:
Shades of caramel intertwined in the hues of vanilla.
The way amber colors blend in a sunset.
We are the mixing of colors MLK might have dreamed of once.
Present in the heat flashes between the toasty bed sheets
That crease in the battle between time and desire.
In the moment where the flames of fire don’t scar nor burn
But spark beauty in a way that words fail to describe.
Holding space for what we don’t know
And finding meaning as we go.
Admittedly, the present had always perplexed me,
Perpetually out of reach,
Until I was painted by your presence
Paintings in the Present
Present:
Free from grappling with the future and liberated from the strangling hands
Of the past.
To be engulfed in his arms the taste of warm white leche,
Silky smooth off the tip of my tongue,
When the day settles in and the night has begun,
When the hourglass has run dry of sand
My fingers finally lock in yours and
That is where I find you.
Like a fawn finding its comfort in the heart of the forest
I sit here in this hidden nook staring endlessly into this deep-set abyss
Wondering if it’s safe to descend once more
To dive down into the dark and the delphic and still find a place to be held
In the warm milky white arms that soothe the thorns on the stem of
A weathered rose.
The keeper of contentment
You have taken hold of my days
Like the lights of Apollo and its transcendence.
Present like the endless days of summer when our sun-kissed skin met
The soft dew of grass under blankets of brisk night skies
Searching for stars not yet seen yet finding them somewhere in between
Heaven and earth.
Somewhere amid my heart and your mind
We longed to find the beauty in intelligence
And the serendipity in a soft heart,
A symphony of gentle eunoia mixed with unorthodox nefelibata:
An orchestra of beautiful thinking and walking on clouds.
We are the sounds to a song of words not yet known
And the taste of warm white-chocolate milk in autumn days.
We are the color of cafe con leche:
Shades of caramel intertwined in the hues of vanilla.
The way amber colors blend in a sunset.
We are the mixing of colors MLK might have dreamed of once.
Present in the heat flashes between the toasty bed sheets
That crease in the battle between time and desire.
In the moment where the flames of fire don’t scar nor burn
But spark beauty in a way that words fail to describe.
Holding space for what we don’t know
And finding meaning as we go.
Admittedly, the present had always perplexed me,
Perpetually out of reach,
Until I was painted by your presence