Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Anca Mihaela Bruma writes

This Song of Me…

Whispers of my long forgotten song
arise in syllables, break into oblivions,
birds started singing from my ascetic hair,
my footstep lost its own penumbra…

I have reached
so many shores…
Just by thinking of you…
A drop of spring sings insides my mind!

Let me be impaired again of this azure,
curve the words and collide
your infinitudes with my existence,
no more to crave for my own ankles!

I gathered all your hours…
I gathered all your alabaster times…
Even my light has dug shelters under your eyelids…
My longingness smoothly flows behind your ear.

If you could just… be…
If I could just not… flee…

My temple hits your horizon,
naked grass whispers your heart beats
as time stopped its breath in rainbows,
inside you, late stars found its own retreat,
my knees grind no more of so much waiting…

Of so much light, it hurts the sky inside me!
This… twilight… does not belong to me!
Your distance is nearer to me, I know
and night between us is burning most lively
mastering all facets of this gained reality…

Your frosts bedazzle and also fire me up,
crushing my colloquy into five words.
Just your silence confided your yearning
while my face turned over a new leaf…

Pathos has wept over your left lip!
We embraced each other in a rhythm beat,
deciphering our own equanimities ,
so lofty wings can find their flights back
and your lips will not be made of wind…

How can I heal the other side of the world
with this insane song of ME?!?

It hurts
this sky inside me!
It hurts
this nearer distance of yours!
I do not know the antidote of my burning wings
nor the remedy of my anthem long forgotten.

Don’t come to me and say
You lost that song of ME!

Too much red in such a grey world
and I forgot to be reborn
thousands times more!..

Home With Nest In Hair -- Tilly Strauss

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