Breathing

I open some windows

to escape my fate,

find birds and talk to them,

find trees and smile at them.

But every breath of air

transforms through me

into pure pain.

 

Sometimes,

I breathe pain

out of the air particles

that flee the house.

Pain I can’t escape,

pain I can’t explain.

The pain men

remind me of being

the weakness of my sex,

so deep and irresistible,

it diminishes

my very own existence

(me).

 

I close the windows

and shut the curtains,

while I breathe air in.

I close the doors

and hide the mirrors,

while I breathe pain out.

The room is finally dark.

 

Photo: Kozani, Summer of 2015, Greece. Minolta dynax 7000i, Kodak Gold, ISO 200, 35mm film.

One line a day

One line a day,

I promised myself to write,

even if it is bs.

 

One line a day,

to exorcize the evil spirits,

to de-demonize my heart,

to clear out the air of the room.

 

One line a day

might not seem enough

or good enough,

but it’s there,

written,

engraved out of the soul’s depths.

 

One line a day

is all I need to start over

fresh,

anew

like an explorer in a strange land,

but this time,

I’ve been invited over

to sit and talk

with its people.

 

One line a day,

as I wake up at dawn,

alone in my chamber,

like a maid whose

day’s work is daunting her.

 

One line a day,

as I go to bed at night,

after working hard

on earning the food

that’s waiting for you on the table.

 

One line a day,

for the pain,

the misery,

the world around me

I can’t explain,

the clouds,

the forests,

the lakes,

the dead flowers in my yard,

the travelers,

the workers,

the family,

the friends,

the light in the morning,

the darkness at night.

 

One line a day

for the words buried in me,

haunting me,

and the ones that came before me.

 

One line a day,

for tomorrow,

our dreams

and Hope.

 

Photo: Walking in Stadspark, Groningen, NL. December 2018. Minolta Dynax 7000i (AF 35-105mm). Earl Grey Lomography Film 200, 35mm film.

The Wall

I look at the wall in front of me

white and long

I stare.

There is a gap

– that numb in between –

crisp air particles

and words unspoken.

There is a whole world

that separates

the voice within us,

plain white

like Fear himself.

My voice is strange,

like the flowers I plucked for you.

There is a wall in front of me

and I stare.

Hazy blue waters

down my feet

and grey clouds

– monotonous –

cold wind caresses my face,

touches my fingertips.

Whiteness everywhere.

There is Silence

and Fear in us

– palpitations –

I try to move,

but I have the wrong

set of feet,

so I stare at the wall

with eyes closed.

Then I heard the cracks of the soul opening.

[Acceptance]

 

(Photo: Groningen, the Netherlands. January 2018. Lomo Instant camera, Double exposure. Instant Fuji Film.)

At the window [Triptych “The Light”]

Those white moments flee

out of me

they fly in the sky

swinging among silences.

Sometimes my windows

define a square prison

dressed in sunlight and

straight lines.

The year of struggle seems vague.

The moments of solitude empty.

And my coffee is cold

waiting for me on the heavy desk,

life inside it has seized

arousing something more important

than a broken circle.

(Photo: Groningen, the Netherlands. January 2018. Lomo Instant camera, Instant Fuji Film.)

Through the nights

Lights are dancing on the walls at night,
flickering shadows talk to me.
The silence is too big to handle,
it suffocates us all in.
And the writing of it,
brings the sleepless tension back.
Can the past hear my whispers?
Can it read my lines?
Dropping love in the dark
I shiver.
I wouldn’t trade this silence for the world.
The morning’s light breeze
wards off the endless thoughts.
Keeping my mind busy
is all I can think of.

(Photo: Lights. Samsung Galaxy, Edited with VscoCam App)