I have issues writing on this blog...but yet I feel it necessary to write something. I have no words really of my own at this moment so I will rely, yet again, on someone else's. This time by Constanta Buzea:
I'm not here...never was
I am reminded of the vestment
I meant sometimes to throw
around the trees in winter
my son's asleep
and his sister quietly paces
over runners not to wake him
at the other end of the world I am torn
between the dusk at home
and the midnight all around
my nightmare
is full of pure sounds
as distinct as feuds
in vain
I am not here never was
I am only sick and on this earth
like a twig stuck in a snowman
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1 comment:
I feel like a snowman covered in twigs.
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