In white water lilies ;
Miniature specks of radiant light
Swim in clear water of minerals, nestled by honey brown soil of nourishing elements
Engulfed by inner petals of delicate but impenetrable comfort
Transported by wise ripples along a translucent rectangle
Eager to drop off the water-fall edge of the plane
To fall as rain and unto its chosen carrier
Of whom shall be called its mother
Waiting to start developing physically after the essence of the mother's choice is fused with her very own jewel
The essence belonging to whom it will call father.
Is the most beautiful astrometry
Of the universe
It calls to me
Calls to the howling wolves
In the great mountainous prairies
Calls to water
In the wind she breathes
Birdsong, she inhales
Drinking from the skies
That fall like rain
To penetrate her soil
Is the most ancient
Inwards and outwards
Within and without
Her sacred core
None can violate
Her daring mists
Winding herself into a spiral
She sings the galaxy
the air-conditioned railjet takes me
with strangely whincing wheels
through winding tracks
along the mountains of my youth
clouds are hanging low
after recent rainfalls
fog shrouds the forest hills
in mystical silhouettes
rises slowly from the valleys
revealing an old castle here
a younger hotel there
the next stop announces
today's wet greenery passing by the window
makes me wonder what it was like
almost seventy years ago
two years after the end of a war
that destroyed many places on the globe
and killed fifty million people
for my mother to give birth to the first
of two sons
with a husband who
at the age of 21
had just made his way
not quite nine months before
escaping from a Soviet POW camp
took him and a friend one month
walking by night
hiding by day
through all of Poland
to end up in a British field hospital
from which they fled
when they had regained some energy
jumping trains from northern Germany
to eastern Austria
coming home just before Christmas
and as my hometown disappears in fog and rain
I hear the muted noises of the high-tech train
now on a steady downhill track
musing how easy my own life has been
no wars, dictatorships, catastrophes
how we are born into a world
so different from our parents‘
raised by their words and values
to make our way
Is it true?
that our mother is dying with blue
making her weak without any clue
destroying her body until its due
Our mother is sleeping for generations
while we kill her softly with excitation's
inches of her body were destroyed by expansions
taking her for granted for our situations
Her long deciduous hair that gives life for us
suddenly gone missing for our lust
shaving it all is a must
not knowing for her kindness to us
Now we shall proudly say
that we viciously rape her everyday
making her look bad until we may
ending her life, so to us I shall say
Gentle and soft,
tonight our moon is crimson like a sigh.
can't she look so sweet
Running our little feet
fresh across the ground?
Gentle Mother moon
She has a quality like you--
her skin is less placid, though.
Her hair covers galaxies
and creates creases where air once lived.
Like a fire, she becomes crescent, burnt,
an imminent star burst.
But, like most light, she likes to leave.
Where are you?
-I cant reach you.
-I can see you.
You're justt out of reach.
I had you,
Where did you go?
Why did you go?
Did I push you away?
Did you pull back?
You mustn't have,
otherwise you'd be here.
What have I done?
What did you do?
Reach out to me.
Our fingertips almost touch,
-you pull away.
I need you.
next tuesday you'll be in surgery
and i'll be at home collecting cuts from
folding a thousand paper cranes
and letting them nip my fingertips
with their tiny beaks and feathers.
poor me, my family.
you couldn't cry when your sister died,
and what about your mother?
you told me that you're still waiting
for them to come back from holiday.
i don't know if it'll ever hit you,
but it's going to crush me.
poor me, my family.
i can't even look them in the eyes
most of the time. how can i hope
to say goodbye, and mean it?
"Mom?" I whisper, your bedroom door slowly creaks open
Pill bottles still clutter around your nightstand along with
Your blue journal with a family photo of us glued to the front page.
My mind manipulates me, toys with my vision; hallucinations
Your bedroom is now bleak, bitter, a cloud of sadness above it
You're favorite blanket is still sprawled out on your perfect bed,
untouched and cold.
I'm afraid to touch it 'cause it was your favorite thing in this world.. I creep over to your bed, "Mom?" I wait for answer.
My fingers touch the softness of your blanket, memories appear like an adrenaline rush and the sadness accelerates.
I fling it over myself. It still smells like you.
I lay in your bed, wrapped in your fleece blanket, shuddering.
"Mom?" I whimper.
I remimince the sounds of your soft and loving voice, calming me
"My baby girl", "I love you", "I'm sorry".
I peek my head out from my bundle of comfort.
Reaching for the framed picture on your nightstand
Healthy, happy, full of life.
Last time I saw you, your eyes were puffy, your face was pale, your voice barely passed as a whisper.
Now, I lay here helplessly,
A empty bottle of pills inside my bitter cold hands.
Mom, please take me home.
"Mom?" I call out in the midst of your room. Everything around me fading to black..
"Hey baby girl." She finally answers back.