We met in lack, in longing,
in irony and light tenderness.
You sat on my dry branch,
coincidental,
casual, with broken wings,
for me it was a sign.
Nature has its rights:
you in the air, without a nest,
I anchored in breathing earth.
This wasn’t supposed to happen,
but it happened.
Writing the dirty-gray reality
of our world in color,
under the skin,
hoping our healing might come true.
Enchanted,
we entered
parallel worlds.
But these worlds have hard walls.
What is safe for me
imprisons you.
You opened a window to freedom,
and I felt fear of open space.
My roots are sunk
deep in hard earth,
waiting calmly for the thaws of spring.
I offer shelter to others,
used to being invisible.
I envy your wings.
I fear your pain.
But still, in our meeting
We know how to coexist
in the same space,
calmer and gentler somehow
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 8:23 PM UTC
We met in lack, in longing,
in irony and light tenderness.
You sat on my dry branch,
coincidental,
casual, with broken wings,
for me it was a sign.
Nature has its rights:
you in the air, without a nest,
I anchored in breathing earth.
This wasn’t supposed to happen,
but it happened.
Writing the dirty-gray reality
of our world in color,
under the skin,
hoping our healing might come true.
Enchanted,
we entered
parallel worlds.
But these worlds have hard walls.
What is safe for me
imprisons you.
You opened a window to freedom,
and I felt fear of open space.
My roots are sunk
deep in hard earth,
waiting calmly for the thaws of spring.
I offer shelter to others,
used to being invisible.
I envy your wings.
I fear your pain.
But still, in our meeting
We know how to coexist
in the same space,
calmer and gentler somehow
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