I want every word of mine
not to punch, but to touch quietly,
to invisibly reach another heart.

I don’t need to write
if my words have not been truly welcomed
it’s better they vanish in the air, into oblivion.

Too much pain has been
engraved like a tragic keepsake
on the map of human downfall.

Can I blame the destructive inner flames
for being a fixed part of existence?
No, I can’t! I couldn’t!

I absorb the marvelous juicy green depth
with blue skies and shining clouds,
such moving beauty
as a witness to personal struggle.

And I am still afraid of tears
of others’ screams,
and of my helplessness.
I don’t want to be too late to help,
to choose the wrong word,
the wrong path.

I wish when it comes to me
to be ready and calm
to open my eyes wide,
to freeze my fears,
and to act without doubt
with all my silent conviction.