Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
like a wind that burns your chest
we did it again
we  did it the same
soul made from milk, hold me
cover me
wrap me in your clay
like a lost child weeping in the streets
without villages, cities
without a country
or a mother
born in war
warm me in your nest under the eaves
you know? sometimes you can't be found  anywhere
and even i know we are not from here
and all is fado, - meat in the ditch
grave in the sea
i'm still looking for you everywhere
i return to our house in the air
in the air
  Jun 25 Maria Mitea
I found my fate below my feet.
So I continue to tread gently.
Sobering up from the intoxication of seeking.
My light has never been lost and need not to be sought.
I’m breaking the walls I built to cover the real me.
Coated with anxiously raised endurance and strengths.
All the layers of fallacy.
My true nature has always been fragile.
Yet I’m toughened by life’s impermanence.
Holding on to the very meaning of life.
Embracing all sufferings and hardships.
Without losing sight of my creative and truer self.
"For more than 500 years, pottery in Japan has found a new lease of life through kintsugi, the traditional Japanese art form of sealing cracks with lacquer and gold powder. This technique of repair embodies the wabi-sabi aesthetic, which embraces the beauty in imperfection."
  Jun 25 Maria Mitea
I will always remember the times you made me feel loved
than the few times you have said it.
  Jun 25 Maria Mitea
She did not let the shadows win.
She remembered who she was
and wore the vibrant stars at night.
She gave her heart consent to heal and held hope within her hands.
Next page