To Freedom

 

Sometimes commands

To "sit!" and "stay!"

Are used – but not on dogs.

Sometimes huge walls arise,

And doors are locked,

To keep me safe,

Where the Big Outside

Cannot see me.

Sometimes handcuffs

Look like cute knitted mittens,

When my unruly left hand

Is tied behind my back.

Because "nothing here

Is yours". Yet. Or ever.

Because I matter so little

That I look down at my body

And expect to see air.

I can easily imagine

Myself anywhere,

Because I barely exist at all.

And when I do,

I am a piece of BAD.

Transparent is better.

So I might as well

Leave the dreary Land of Grey No.

And win myself back

From transparency

One fit muscle at a time.

The walls step back,

But I'm still afraid.

Until you show me

That there weren't any walls.

You laugh in the Big Fun Outside,

Yet I hold on tight,

Because it makes me dizzy.

You swing on swings,

And savour wine,

You dare to be,

In your body

Out in the world,

To speak and dance

And claim your space and time.

"Let me try", - I say.

"Take me with you".

You give me a hand,

But my walls are a snail's shell,

They come with me.

My spine has grown into a kennel,

I am chained in to "sit!".

My body folds onto itself.

I bring pieces of the World

Into my kennel to study.

You say it makes me "smart".

One day – I promise! –

The kennel will become a backpack,

I will climb through the door

That you hold open for me,

And join you in the World.

One day the walls will crumble,

I will join you in your freedom,

Just don't give up on me.

 

 

 

 

 

Summer is pregnant with winter

The air at noon comes bearing sparks

Stiff with congealed fire

The cicadas alone haven't fainted

Every blade of grass

Retreats into itself.

An irate torrid wind

Rolls down the wrinkles

Of the terraced land of Judea,

Sweeps the scorched leaves.

And thus, the world stands

Melted onto its axis.

And only at sunset

A deep exhale of the sea

Combats the breath of the desert

Head on, venting its longing,

Yawning with desire,

And the winter is conceived

Just as the gates of the inferno

Swing open on the Solstice.  

It ripens inside the pomegranates,

It bloats the acacia seeds,

Ready to rattle in December.

It comes as a mere hint

Of a smell. A memory.

A bass buzz of Muladhara

Rising from the first drop

Of evaporated autumn.

Building up the torrent

To conceive the summer.

2020 Vision

Twenty looks at twenty,

Perfect vision.

Reflecting the Other

Inside each other.

Estranged Shadow

Reflected to perfection.

This year is a world-wide

Can of paint spray,

Dropped and pierced.

It keeps rotating

Inside each human,  

Spitting out hatred

Sticky slime of despair

Comes oozing out.

Metallic-tasting red

Is bleeding through.

Anger bursts out

Green foam of envy

Freezes mid-air.

Nothing could be hidden

In twenty-twenty

Vision.

Oh, how very few

Carried jars of honey!

The earth shudders

Waking up from a

Thousand years of slumber.

"Thy brother's keeper" –

It mutters.

"So that you may live" –

We answer,

Weeping through our rage,

Softened by real

Human touch,

We bend down to clean

Our shared home.