stone

stoned to the corners of my being 

stoned to the earth's desires 

stoned, calcified and immersed in a single point of view. 

afraid

afraid of lack of movement 

afraid of my own body's reaction 

afraid of loosing myself 

midnight

meet me in a dream

near the mountains that protected your childhood from the distance.

find a green path under a full moon. 

wolfs and bears and other creatures 

would party in the mountains. 

 

while we would stair in eachothers eyes and silence would know

A kiss. 

voice inside

my voice inside 

is at the edge of the world

smiling

my voice inside 

is grateful for the little things I have

the smile of my kids, 

the flowers 

on my living room table,

the health of my family. 

my voice inside 

knows more than I do. 

has no regrets. 

not for anything that in the last year has 

enriched my being with a kind of emotion I was not aware I still hold. 

it is brave enough to make me  unapologetically vulnerable. 

it is that kind of voice that you hear coming out of your being, when your child is hurting, or when you are near a panic attack, or at your first loves desire. 

The voice, the real one. 

The one that never screams, the one that always tells the truth. 

The truth inside a soul. The light that trembles, but it is never extinct. 

it is that voice that when hurting is like the growl of a she wolf on a full moon.

it is never for the weak of heart, 

as it can bring doubts and sometimes tears.

token

disappointment from a distance

disappointment is clear and not ever subtle 

if it would be spilled on the green land in front of a church it would burn the ground up to the moment when there would not be anything green around it. 

disappointment is with motive, comes by reason and is always justified, but it demands a lot from any spirit. 

It always comes with a token. 

the token of justified feeling and unjustified repercussions. 

We all need to rebuild from disappointment's dust. 

canoe in flames

your determination fading 

and being reborned 

near the roots of my body 

and light and pure joy in the canoe in flames that somedays drives my thoughts into surrender.

It is a sorrow along the way

A sorrow that needs to be 

and to become so to make room for reality.

meaning

I still carry with me

the memory of your eyes 

when you smile 

the way you talk to me

only through your eyes, sometimes

or through the tone of your voice

the way you look at me 

when you think I am not looking 

and the way you confide in me 

even with things that seem small 

but are not revealed day to day

my imagination is a jester 

the smile 

the eyes 

the words 

the tone of voice 

maybe they have no real meaning, 

only the one I give. 

And I walk away with them 

in my memory

as I can not give anymore.