God, if you are listening
I am still searching for something useful.
I have faith.
I am just struggling with my fear-based mentality.
I really hate that life continues to
slap me with the poor stick.
I am so over feeling poor.
There is only so much positivity one can muster when you are always living poor.
This poem has been with me for the longest time. It reminds me of the first time I felt the words speak to me. My words will never compare but still I strive.
“Poetry” by Pablo Neruda
And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
Elle écrivait des lignes en silence,
dessinant des lettres sur un cahier,
elle regardait le ciel parfois, parfois elle ne regardait rien.
Simplement elle écrivait car il le fallait.
Elle portait en son cœur l'amour, le désespoir et la haine.
Les sentiments que tout le monde porte.
Mais elle en faisait un vin au goût de l'espoir.
Elle n'aimait pas conclure dans le négatif
Elle avait le courage et la force.
Son nom ressemblait à celui d'une montagne à gravir.
Je ne l'ai jamais vu mais son écho calme mes nuits.
