once upon a time
Once upon a time
In May, in the landscape where I used to live, dainty light green buses appeared, seemed to have no roots, fragile, pure sea air, in a temporary material form
Then, one morning, not a trace, they had gone back
to the ocean again, to ethereal waves of beauty once more so easily disturbed by the North Westerly wind
Once this scenery had been farmed, mind, tiny plots
for beans and potatoes, where donkeys grazed among
olive trees; it was the donkey that had made farming possible, and still, we see them in Sudan carrying
a family's belongings when fleeing poverty and wars.
Walking among ruined stone dwellings, I could see traces
of what had been living rooms and kitchens, now many
had bushes growing through the floors
Domestic plants, like Holm oaks, olive trees, and date
bushes, had grown at their own rate and looked alien
like a fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen
Fascinating, but slightly scary at the same time, when hearing a sound, one quickly looks, alas, only a rabbit
The, great tales from my childhood are acutely recalled
I'm aware it was poverty that made people leave this
paradise, beauty does not fill the stomach of the hungry
I sense the presence of voices, and I'm moved
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