it was a beautiful summer - the anguish healed by a deeper acceptance of all that was wrong in my world - my mother says that acceptance is not resignation but the beginning of a new voyage -
my mother the wind, the stars -
at midnight ghosts rush in and fill the old clock with whispers and rustle and my cocoon of fear becomes a cradle of memories;
the big entrance door of our house is once again a forest of birch trees
and the key a bird with colorful feathers;
don’t knock, don’t call
I’ll never let you in…
remember your cocoon of fear?
you were wondering whether
you would emerge a butterfly
or wither and die;
spring always decides for you:
eyes shut,
wings not yet ready -
just threads of silk and hope
tying the knot around your frail secrets;
you wait to awake,
you dread the change
yet know it begins;
in your slumber you dream
always the same dream:
your wings grow and grow
until they turn into a wall of black leaves:
muted cries,
words that never carried thoughts
entombed in its dense foliage,
weighing you down -
you are no longer a butterfly
but an unnamed body with a fluttering heart:
flying is just another
endless sinking…
breathing blackness,
lungs filled with nightmares,
ants of fear crawling on my neck,
tongue tasting bittersweet enchantment -
inky night going up in smoke,
dark leeches feeding
on the liquid silence;
only loneliness is solid:
a black glass pyramid
full of white lilies and
fragrant lies.