Piles of Men bones and then… digged from the holes hidden
deep in earth.
Stones and ashes with sweat of slaves you think we don’t
have them today.
My hair turned grey and the vision shortened. It suffocated
by bizarre images
created throughout the world and beyond. Who said and who
had ever promised
us to come down on earth and enjoy our vacation, for life demands
more than
I may see, more than I may feel, more than I may utter the
first word of
the first language- that of Silence.
There’s another Soul evaporating on the deck and in the
shore the breeze blows
odors of their smelly sweat. They watch as they wait in the
queue their turn
to death entrance. That Gate open-heartedly awaits so many
…a way so many
guests for their retirement. There is a vast Space beyond
blissful Knowing and
the bells rang beneath the roof of the utmost Heaven.
You see. Even Death is different, not only Fate, not only
Joy, not only
uninterrupted Smile- The one that demolishes every hatred.
Even Love is different
in the process of your Gentle mortification.
Then ask me where is Freedom, where is the Turquoise bone of
Destiny and
the days as cheap minerals overwhelming Life taken as corn
seeds by chicken
and a rooster with the chirping voice who calls them and
don’t allow them
to have even a grain.
…and the flowers are frozen by the snow on the April’s end-
this Spring has
betrayed us all- sour are the strawberries, you think you
eat cherries.
…and what else do you think we shall do when the Sun burns
your shadow
until it disappears.
Who said you have a right to call me Life- when in real I’m
only
a Gentle Mortification.
