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Vorrei un figlio da te che sia una spada
lucente, come un grido di alta grazia,
che sia pietra, che sia novello Adamo,
lievito del mio sangue e che risolva
più quietamente questa nostra sete.
Ah, se t'amo, lo grido ad ogni vento
gemmando fiori da ogni stanco ramo
e fiorita son tutta e d'ogni velo
vo scerpando il mio lutto
perché genesi sei della mia carne.
Ma il mio cuore, trafitto dall'amore
ha desiderio di mondarsi vivo.
E perciò dammi un figlio delicato,
un bellissimo, vergine viticcio
da allacciare al mio tronco, e tu, possente
olmo, tu padre ricco d'ogni forza pura
mieterai liete ombre alle mie luci.
Carlos PD Oct 2015
in the beginning
she was sad.
she looked over the vast expanse of emptiness
inside her chest
and said to herself;
"i am sad"
so there was light.
every corner of her void
lit up with the haste of a light switch
flicking every bit of shadow outward
and revealing all the dark that light could not touch
and she saw this darkness that remained still
and said to herself;
"i am sad"
and so came the horizon.
a single line that divides drowning and flying
often blurred by sunrise and sunset
always gazed upon and set as a destination
but never quite reached
because she never learned how to swim
and so she made land.
she made contact with her feet
walking among the trees
that fell her dreams in forests with only her to hear
them
and she heard them all.
calling her either too thin
or too thick
or too willing
or too undecided whether to gasp for air or grasp his hair for more
so she became the moon.
surveying every shore and valley
shining light on those that would dare to look up
beyond their own realities and insecurities.
but as she looked around herself
she saw that the sky was bare
so she found her birds.
friends that would share the air around her
and let her breathe
with the wind from their wings
lifting her up beyond all that she thought she was
and she smiled a crescent moon and became what she forgot she was, beautiful.

when i looked up at the moon
i saw no moon
i only saw the craters in her heart
contrasting the brightness of her soul
beautiful.
when i landed on the moon
i gazed upon the earth and saw a planet
and not seven point one billion people
not seven point one billion reasons to be disappointed
in the advances of new ways we can hurt each other.
no, while i was on the moon,
as far as i was concerned,
out of seven point one billion people living,
only one exists;
her.
she was my moon
and i was her's
but that was then
and this is now
and it's time to face present;
on the seventh day, god rested
on the fourth week, she attested to the proof around her
and she saw all
and said to herself;
"i am glad"
and we felt how we felt
and we did what we did
and it was wonderful
and spectacular
speaking only in vernacular
familiar
only to our minds
that synchronized
speaking words we never spoke
and made promises we never swore
and we knew how we felt about each other.
it was beautiful.
we were beautiful.
but that was then
and this is now.
we built too high too soon
giving each other all the bricks
that composed the walls of our broken hearts
and so the tower of babel collapsed
and we spoke in different tongues
left trying to guess what every gesture
and word could possibly mean
and i was desperate.
she looked at me and said;
"i am scared"
and so we became what we used to be
in the time when we felt no doubt about each other
because we didn't know one another back then
we became strangers.
passing each other in crowded hallways
trying to avoid each other's existence
and in the test of togetherness
we dropped from a perfect score of one hundred
to zero.
we sank in the ocean we made of our melted selves
and she took the last lifeboat to the horizon
and left me gasping for the air
that used to be between our lips
shivering in the cold of the lack of her embrace.
but i know how to swim.
i reached the shore.
looking for shelter i found that every door
that leads to her has locks with her name on them
and for the life of me
i could not remember the combination
or if she even gave it to me.
so i built my own house.
it's crooked
leans a bit to the left
with four walls, a roof, a floor
and a door
that i'm leaving open.
you don't have to knock
or find a key
feel free
come in again.
and if ever you don't
i'm not staying here
i'm not giving up.
i'll go out
and for the first time in five years
i'll knock on your door first.
i'll ask if i can come in,
i'll reintroduce myself
and ask permission
to know you again.
and i hope
that when we meet once more,
you'll say to yourself;
"i am glad."
to the friend that refused to accept these three pages that i hastily ripped off, thank you.
Vorrei un figlio da te che sia una spada
lucente, come un grido di alta grazia,
che sia pietra, che sia novello Adamo,
lievito del mio sangue e che risolva
più quietamente questa nostra sete.
Ah, se t'amo, lo grido ad ogni vento
gemmando fiori da ogni stanco ramo
e fiorita son tutta e d'ogni velo
vo scerpando il mio lutto
perché genesi sei della mia carne.
Ma il mio cuore, trafitto dall'amore
ha desiderio di mondarsi vivo.
E perciò dammi un figlio delicato,
un bellissimo, vergine viticcio
da allacciare al mio tronco, e tu, possente
olmo, tu padre ricco d'ogni forza pura
mieterai liete ombre alle mie luci.
Vorrei un figlio da te che sia una spada
lucente, come un grido di alta grazia,
che sia pietra, che sia novello Adamo,
lievito del mio sangue e che risolva
più quietamente questa nostra sete.
Ah, se t'amo, lo grido ad ogni vento
gemmando fiori da ogni stanco ramo
e fiorita son tutta e d'ogni velo
vo scerpando il mio lutto
perché genesi sei della mia carne.
Ma il mio cuore, trafitto dall'amore
ha desiderio di mondarsi vivo.
E perciò dammi un figlio delicato,
un bellissimo, vergine viticcio
da allacciare al mio tronco, e tu, possente
olmo, tu padre ricco d'ogni forza pura
mieterai liete ombre alle mie luci.

— The End —