Snow disgusting, cold
Hibernating would be good
Still, so beautiful.

Mothers
of life,
of arts, of any
kind of creation, all
wake!

Let us
modern mothers,
creative creatures, let us
rise!

Let
us ladle
from the universal
source of creation! To live is to
create!

I wish I were
a gravedigger,
armed with,
the sharpest shovel,
thump by thump,
digging up
that wooden box.

I wish I were
a doctor,
armed with
the sharpest scalpel,
cut by cut,
dissecting
theses arteries.

I wish I were
an embalmer
armed with
the sharpest substance,
layer by layer,
mummifying
this muscle.

I wish I were
a seamstress
armed with
the sharpest needle,
stitch by stitch,
sewing up
this skin.

I wish I were
a daughter
armed with
the sharpest memory,
step by step,
reviving
this love.
 
I wish I were
a woman
decorated with
your heart upon my chest,
step by step
stitch by stich
layer by layer
cut by cut
thump by thump
telling me
to whom
you dedicated
that last beat.