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Poem

it's as light as snow, the steep hill
when the sun rises must not move a finger,
obedient child, the earth wears its white feathery garment,
putrefied by the wet tears,  no need to raise  up my  eyelids,
speak, or be silent, when i listen
like a newborn wrapped in diapers
i let the snow cover my green eyes,
when you say: not today. not tomorrow.
i don't  need to cry,
i look at the world smiling and say to myself: what a miracle, what a blessing,
i don't have to do anything of those things,
i don't even have to expect a breeze, the touch of a ladybug on my hand,
and ”never ”, and ”nothing” becomes so much, so much
so much lighter than a stone arrow,
except,
we still see ourselves in the eyes of forgotten children
among the flowers
even so, everything is much easier, all of a sudden
it gets easier, and easier, now,
when we are about to get older
wise.

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