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Speak! a child was alone and alone
She became the smallness in her body She became the prisoner at home And the little girl was wounded Like an evening sky, familiar and unfamiliar But they, - the “others” - Kept silent And when she was wounded like a song They kept their silence, They stayed humble, And it was said: “How sweet He finds humbleness!” “How sweet He finds silence!” And she sank in silence like a flake She left her breath behind And empty she went, into a secret lake And the little girl grew And she travelled to nowhere And her mother’s stars did not see The dark secret in her hair And her father’s arms did not keep her away from the cold As her father was kidnapped by the war A hypocrite war like the war before And the little girl grew A little bit more Between one axe And another Behind the Church’s door And yes, she sobbed Like a riddle that defied all solutions And lived fortified In the corner of her studies In many sad devotions But she grew up… And maybe she resembled to a village That the war of the south invaded And light-up And when she spoke... they silenced her In the name of the Lord of fear, immediately, they silenced her They told her to pray more, in silence Maybe she did! But she grew up The little girl was broken But the little girl healed her wound With love that begins at the beginning That keeps all truth tuned As the little girl grew up She slept in the roses Lighting up the forest of her heart And said to the fugue’s art: I love me And I love him a sun in which I lose my path To find it I became my Self itself I won’t hide it Not anymore That girl who was here Won Like a storm in a deer, She sank highly into her love And in the austerity of her voice A windy ray bloomed Despite all the fear The little girl was wounded The little girl was broken, The little girl sobbed, And The little girl, That same little girl, Won And she spoke the unspoken…
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When the birds dry in your eyes
And the quince blows in your heart listen, Search for the sleeping child in you For a woman who left you When you climbed the stars Stepping on the corpse of love In you You may have promised her braids: "I'll be back with something worthy of us" And you were exchanging your wing for a rock And your soul for solitude And you were becoming a question for every stranger:"Would you tell me who I am?" And they say, "Me." When the visions turn into stone And you walk and do not give birth to a dream or be born, Weep Until the dew returns and you rejoice Like love in the beginning of love when you were touching you In you |
AuthorChristo El Morr ArchivesCategories |
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