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