We are passing through a blue
period after
a grey period: 'Surely
a green age will follow.' You
stifle your remorse. We are on
our way to
yet
another chance
for tears
in our mother's eyes. Don't you agree? Mothers
enfolded
in the depths -the depths
of land dear
to our souls - where the gods
live
steeped in their
energy. That energy
is proof enough that never, not for
one single
moment, have their hearts
departed
from that magnetic place.
Magnetic? Of course...
Alone in those lands,
they hang on to their sadness, their wisdom,
while their children
reach out to catch
the golden ring of freedom,
and the risk:
the risk of wandering on an endless,
senseless pilgrimage. Flying
like model planes? Oh,
the thrill
until -
three thousand, twelve thousand
years - they're found, fossilised in sedimentary rocks,
mothers
separated from their children, layers
and layers apart, preserved,
with a bit of luck, in mint condition
(maybe) buried
with all the things that might
be needed in the afterlife...
A movement
from East to West, following
the progress
of the sun. What
was I saying? Oh yes, we are passing through
a blue period, after
a grey period...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu, from Born in Romania, Contemporary Literature Press, Bucharest 2014
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
We are passing through a blue
period after
a grey period: 'Surely
a green age will follow.' You
stifle your remorse. We are on
our way to
yet
another chance
for tears
in our mother's eyes. Don't you agree? Mothers
enfolded
in the depths -the depths
of land dear
to our souls - where the gods
live
steeped in their
energy. That energy
is proof enough that never, not for
one single
moment, have their hearts
departed
from that magnetic place.
Magnetic? Of course...
Alone in those lands,
they hang on to their sadness, their wisdom,
while their children
reach out to catch
the golden ring of freedom,
and the risk:
the risk of wandering on an endless,
senseless pilgrimage. Flying
like model planes? Oh,
the thrill
until -
three thousand, twelve thousand
years - they're found, fossilised in sedimentary rocks,
mothers
separated from their children, layers
and layers apart, preserved,
with a bit of luck, in mint condition
(maybe) buried
with all the things that might
be needed in the afterlife...
A movement
from East to West, following
the progress
of the sun. What
was I saying? Oh yes, we are passing through
a blue period, after
a grey period...
Liviu Ioan Stoiciu, from Born in Romania, Contemporary Literature Press, Bucharest 2014
other poems of the same author can be read here
http://editura.mttlc.ro/liviu-stoiciu-poems.html
