Only six hours stretch
between us.
The air wrapped in night
slowly turns into dawn.
Time flows through our veins,
for one of us quickly,
for the other more slowly.
Soon I will say good night,
and you will wish me a good day.
The distance in time and space
makes me think
of those who came and went
with the ticking of a clock.
A few words
could have been comfort,
but they left silence instead.
And we write that ending
in our minds,
as if closure could bring us peace.
Does a loss repeated
hurt any less?
We are still lucky.
We can say
good morning at night,
and words carry us
through another circle traced
by the hands of time
until the next meeting.
I wish I could be sure
that the same will happen
when there are no lips left
to speak those words.
Fragility suspended
on slender stems
in the shimmer
of passing lives.
May all the touched moments
fall now
upon this blue planet
and hold us all
in gentleness.
Yes, we are bodies
longing for a mother's open arms,
a father's voice,
a friend's handshake,
a lover's tender gaze
21h ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 9:02 PM UTC
There is no death
there is memory, resting in flowers,
soft sounds that return
at unexpected moments,
making us pause
that voice,
those hands,
that tenderness,
the scent of peonies,
the scent of summer near
Sing, birds,
let us be glad
with those who no longer ask to be noticed,
Even if we forget
they will be remembered
by the wind
by the colors
by the earth that once carried them
Memory opens the wide peony blooms,
and there,
between the petals,
looks at us
a caring
eternity
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
A thin spherical layer,
vivid colors upon it,
rising above memory,
Drifting through the air,
such were we,
or perhaps we are,
young, brave, angry?
Branches pierce the bubble,
shattering it into drops,
the ethereal falling
to the solid ground,
Down there, we can still paint
not on the elusive walls,
but on a linen ground carrying
our skies and our earth.
2d ago
May 31, 2026 at 8:01 PM UTC
When the day settles
into the embrace of dusk
when dawn gently touches
the dense deep-blue night
I invent names for trees
for the touch of rough bark
in the crown of an old alder
twelve whispers live
do you hear them now?
The unseen becomes fulfillment
as long as strings tremble
as long as a blackbird
watches the branches
swaying in the wind
this world can still be soft
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 5:01 PM UTC
Applied layer by layer, color after color,
shape beside shape, ridges and indentations,
the landscape of our perceptions
shifting with the light,
our lenses are crystallizing the image
veiled by tiny particles of dust.
Was it us who laid down the paint?
Did we cradle the dried sorrow of a blue stain?
Did we throw a red that kept biting at our ankles,
leaving purple shadows under our feet?
Everything looks perfect,
the proportions, the stains,
the dance of light with shadow,
green softening the hardness of the ground.
A thought took our hands,
the painting was taken off the wall,
someone spilled drops of solvent
so they would seep through,
reaching the naked canvas.
The frame was too weak
to hold all those worlds
colors harden into shells,
the core is still breathing
with restless particles of dust.
6d ago
May 27, 2026 at 7:58 PM UTC
Delicate poplar clouds
were carried away by the strong wind
together with the spinning wings of maple seeds
They showed me where I began to curl inward
apologizing for taking up air
for gravity
for dreams
I was becoming invisible and angry
On a Sunday afternoon
the wind opened my window
and I saw the dance of the poplar and maple
delicacy and change
angel feathers and little spinning wings in the air
Suddenly, my questions became the image
of the coming storm
Heavy rain came
The Earth began to breathe
My thoughts dissolved
How much I needed that storm!
I see us
in the pulsing air
in the tone
of a leaden cloud
I felt the whiteness on my skin
the maple wings
the wind
the heavy rain
They were needed
I was twisting through a hundred lives
The wind touched me
soft whiteness touched me
maple leaves fell at my feet
So I carefully drew clean air into my lungs
and then felt lightness
May 24
May 24, 2026 at 7:59 PM UTC
On the uneven surface of life
we move our fingerprint lines
holding in our arms
a defenseless thought
of who we could have been
just a moment ago
Then the paths
split
They could be simpler
but would that beautiful poppy
with its strong stem
wide petals
and its black center
have grown behind rusty wires?
For a moment
we looked at each other
the heart beats
eyelids narrow in the sun
then we get wet in the rain
wrapped in the sweet scent
of the linden tree waiting for July
How many sighs
how many tender hopes
stay with us?
Yes
my joy and my pain
are the reward for being human
I will not be a red poppy
I will not be a linden blooming in July
I will not sing like a blackbird
to say goodbye to the morning
I will become an elusive memory
of what was created
before I turned
onto that side trail
Are these words
are these steps
is this tiredness
proof that I am still here?
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 1:12 PM UTC
My body
is changing
I feel it
my fingers
want to write
but spreadsheets are waiting
to be filled
with words no one
will ever read
I am
to meet expectations
of closed boxes
that measure human worth
with a ruler
and though I crumbled
a dried leaf
already turned to dust,
I see how many of Beksiński’s fears
still pull me
by the left trouser leg
I am at the bottom of the pyramid
breathing
rules
made in haste
by others
I am formed
by the system
while aware
of a self
spilling beyond its shape
my page does not fall
it wants neither
the left
nor the right side
Grief rises
in scattered pieces
I want to build something
that will be mine
and mine alone
from thought
from the will to exist
not from other people’s systems
that do not know
which drawer to place the belief in
that a person who falls
can stand up again
without pushing aside
the breath of others
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 4:11 PM UTC
I spent many years in the system. I wanted more time to support people, not more paperwork or bureaucratic language that made everything feel flat and distant.
Now I want to share knowledge in a different way, by supporting people as they ask questions, face doubts, develop ideas, and grow through human connection, humility, and understanding. Even now. Especially now. Because we can still choose to be human.
Because we need to be human.
Please keep your fingers crossed for me, so I don't give up.
I cannot keep waiting for perfection that never comes. I know it is a risk to step away from the system, but I want to build bridges through understanding, especially at a time when so many things seem to be closing rather than opening.
There are still many stories worth telling to future generations.
Your poems lift me up because you speak about what is difficult, but also what is beautiful.
Not everything is lost. We need to keep going, one small step at a time.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 3:50 PM UTC
I hear your voice
I hear his voice
their words
we are
for each other
for others
for the bird singing at 4 a.m
we are for memories
we are in the mind
through languages
outside and inside
of our warm hands
we exist in different states
building wooden bridges
saying a prayer for lost things
look into their eyes
the pupils widen
there is so much to keep alive
the words breathe
and look back at us
lift them from the ground
and give back a clear voice
to those who fight in silence
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 11:24 PM UTC