a voice whispers: write, make peace,
writing is the weapon of peace,
face to face, i sit down, i close my eyes as if i am in a duel,
to see nothing, i check
and stretch out my hands, fumble,
i take the pencil as if pulling the trigger,
i realize that i could **** myself with it, or resurrect,
fall in love,
i also can bring flowers on my grave,
my mother always told us: for everything you want to do and say in life, you need to trust
you are born because someone trusts you to be born,
you take the breast in your mouth, you **** milk because someone trusts you to touch the breast,
you start humming, crawling on all fours because you saw the cat, and the cat
trusts you,
you jump with your neck down from the bed, you hit yourself, and you cry but you
say it doesn't hurt because you trust the floor, the mother kisses your bubu,
instantly the river of trust-flows through the blood,
you walk, you run after sparrows, you feel like the biggest man on earth,
and you fly,
fly, like an eagle,
you have so much trust that you start giving it away, on the left and on the
right, and you don't feel poor, you don't feel stupid either,
the world looks at you, admires you, and wonders how you are so clever and
strong-willed,
but, there might come a day when you want to write a poem as if you are
blind
and you don't care, you walk like a blind man forward,
you move,
you do what you have to do,
you cross the street
