bars
by cristina-monica-moldoveanu
**to raise myself little by little
up to the blackbird’s nest
already forgotten by God
my long hair more and more rough and salty
to wrap it around the bird as if a dry tree’s cradle
to feed it from my green nut eyes
from tears of happiness
to make it grow
with its wings crisscrossed
with a bolted beak
until it will be bigger than the sun in my eyeballs
and the only door opened like the clear blue sky
yet forbidden for me
would eventually close**