letter

somedays I would like to write you a letter written in pencil, handwritten.

to sign it with an unknown name Silvia or Martha, or Agatha maybe.  

but in the letter nothing of importance, except maybe the changes I see in you.

The way your neck changed, it is slimmer.

The way your voice changed a little, 

it found pace, something it was looking for

Your tired eyes. 

Your love of life and light and desire, not ever directly expressed verbally.

the way I feel like myself, more when I am close to you.

a room with a name

in a room with a name

there is nothing strange in the space inbetween.

you can continue explaining, or keeping doors opened, or whatever makes you feel better. 

or just do not join me.

inulin

At the limit of my being 

there are emotions 

wrapped in inulin

At the limit of my being 

there are hills that my hips shake

there are clowds I ride 

and 

little flowers with huge roots

tree roots, that changed perspective 

and refrained from growing

At the limit of my being 

rain and summer light. 

simplicity

under water all things of life get clarified 

under water there is only dessert 

under water there is only light and play 

there is absence and it is playful.

Under water my life is simple. 

It is movement. 

no scent, no taste, no emotion

only movement and simplicity. 

end of June

my childhood was marked by

Keep her safe. 

my little sister. 

The one that could have fought the anger demon, and got away with it. 

The one that my grandmothers were scared off 

The one that could not stand or walk in due time 

The one that always knew something more than me

The one that was never listening 

although I was almost always right. 

The one that had my heart since she eat her own poo with her left hand, when she was 3 or 4 months old.

The one that always got me to fight as we were back on the street, fighting the bullies on the streets. 

The one that always looked up to me somehow. 

The one that knows me best. With all the good, all the ugly and all the dreams from childhood. 

trembling temple

There is a temple 

in its middle

there is a small golden stone. One that smells like peonies in the summer.

One that knows how to give away the colours of the Sun.

One with shades that are recognizable wherever she is willing to go. 

the temple trembles. 

It knows the colours and the shapes of each of its stones, black or coloured, still it never encountered this kind of stone.

A stone that brings the sun in its entrance. A stone that makes the temple want to grow 2-3 feet taller. 

A small golden stone that reflects the sun inside his walls. 

my body

I look at my body 

and I love it even more than when I was younger

My neck is kind 

my breasts are beautiful and stubborn 

my tummy has secret waves and it is never boring 

my hips are dancing and my legs are not long, but always long enough for what I need. My feet are small and gracefull and they can do wonderful things. 

My bottom is small, but rounder than before. My ears are chewy and my hands are wiser, they hold my soul in line. 

my face is not beautiful in itself, but has 1000 shades of beauty. And some freckles. Especially in the summer.