pistrui din trecut

Pe umerii mei sunt mainile mamei mele 

pe umerii mame sunt urme ale mainilor bunicii 

pe umerii bunicii sunt pistrui

pe care ii gasesc pe chip

cand privesc imaginea din oglinda. 

Pistrui, fiecare cu cate o insemnatate, fiecare cu cate o poveste. 

layers of selfdiscovery

I am self aware 

low maintenance  

high achiever 

modest and sometimes single minded

I am the way God intended 

or the universe, or the nothingNess

we care nothing about. 

I am an idealist 

a maker of dreams, 

of objectives to be reached 

and of stairs to reach them. 

I am in all ways a woman 

of many layers:

Beautiful somedays

kind in many ways 

smart, but not smartest

passionate 

contemplative and obsevative 

loyal, but not against my feelings 

straightforward, but still with a diplomatic iz. 

brave.

playful 

and sometimes anxious and 

hardworker

Confident 

and sometimes not.

I lack empathy when I feel lied to, 

crossed with, or I know secret interests residing inside

I am

a mother 

a sister 

a partner

and a daughter 

a friend that would always help a friend in need

a loving woman of many layers. 

crossing the streets

I saw my little sister 

in the middle of the street 

her hands were splitted in two

her brown hair filled with blood 

She opened her eyes 

in the neighbourhood hospital 

and my heart stopped for one second

She said you used to take my hand 

when crossing the street. 

Then smiled. 

Her pain was yellow and flooding the hospital corridor. It had the smell of chlorine and blood. 

It went inside my lungs, that yellow smoke. 

It brought anger as it brought dispear to her husband and a deep sadness for my mother. 

My father freezed. I've never seen him freeze. 

He was contemplating a power he had no power upon, a power of injustice, a power of destiny, of catastrophic event. 

Looking death right in the face, except it wasn't his own, it was his smallest child. The one he swore to keep safe. 

Always.  

My mother took my hand.

She kept enchanting my beautiful child, my beautiful child. I knew she was praying. 

Seeing my sister smile on the hospital bed, woked me up. I realized that in the face of death you have one shot. And she took it with dignity. 

She lived to cross again the streets, now with her 2 daughters in her arms. 

My father was never the same as before. Something in him freezed that day. 

My anger gets out in therapy and speaks Greek and swares and curses without cursing. 

My mother's pain got a depozit on her bones. 

It is never temporary. But we move on. 

loyalty a different part of me

loyalty is different

does not reside in my heart  

my loyalty is very much linked to  my respect before all else.  

And when I give it, it is never temporary. 

7 return

I want to give back a 7.  

It is yours and I borrowed it in another year.  

With good intentions. 

but had no right to do it.

I can reimburse you for the last 4 months

by giving you my 2 * 7. 

when and if you need them.  

instead of space

why can't I just give space 

take space 

make space inbetween? 

why can't I just build space 

out of this strange feeling 

I have? 

Why instead of space 

I miss shared thoughts?

Why instead of distance

I long for the inflexiones of a voice, 

when you really care about 

something you talk about? 

Why I know space is good, is need it and clearly wanted,

but I miss the way you smile with your eyes 

and in space this is not visible. 

Why there is so much space in my heart 

to care so deep and different? 

rebel boundaries

I should not rebel as I do

Boundaries manifesting

as all boundaries raised they need to be respected.