lördag 19 maj 2012

Forest full of white flowers.

It was a beautiful day in spring
the birds were singing
sun shining, warming the skin
a little wind in the hair

and I stood in the forest
full of white, small flowers
Oxalis acetosella, the little sour one,
and I remembered another forest
another time
full of white flowers, Anemones,
and my eyes were full of tears

Why is it
that when we have the chance
we are not brave enough
to jump on the wave?
Though we know
this security is an illusion
and we can jump and feel in the stomach
endless happiness, flying

And I turn my face away
and cry
this beautiful day in may
when the sun is shining
and the birds are singing
and the wind touches my face.

I am here, now
but my mind is somewhere else
thinking its why and how
old sorrows still not healed
the lonely child in me
the outsider

Will it help to heal the scars
to scream and shout
kick and hit
if there is no way
to ever not being alone?

Alone is an illusion
my therapist says
ye, I know that
but how tell the little child
it should not bother being left alone
to be chosen away, unwanted, unseen
like something disgusting and awful

There was never anyone
there will never be someone
so smile and be happy.

Never think of what could be
think of what is
with small adorable white flowers
the whole forest full
sun that shines
birds singing
and wind in the hair
warming you.

A depressed one sees only the darkness
a lonely one sees only the loneliness
a deprived one sees only what is missing
an unloved one seeks love only where there are no love
an abused one hits itself again and again and again
so without pardon, merciless

Oh poor humans...

I tried so very hard to forget
leave it behind
not gather those sour apples
but instead the beautiful pearls
of wisdom
light, the white and blessing one
in my loneliness
and it feels like I pretend.

I would want to tell someone
about the beauty and the light
and the sorrow
the forest full of white flowers
sharing makes the difference
healing the soul.

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