White Cross

One summer day I visited the Merry Cemetery
fearing Moirai that bring nights
walking hurriedly with small steps
reading colored crosses in a haste
shaking off pollen from my dress
flowers of stubborn butterflies
sitting on my chest’s cross
keeping my lips stitched tight
sealing too big questions
as if the priest were stretching towards me his crucifix

They built a black cross at the main street’s corner
I’m looking through the eyelids into the sun
shining brutally on the plain marble
spoiled now and then by some white pigeon
childhood is coming back inside me
all of us are again together
the others still smile telling me it’s useless to pour water for mice
teardrops hurt behind my eyes
the world is like a colored kaleidoscope
turning inside black binoculars

My forefathers lie in a small graveyard
in their village they whitewashed the crucifix pale blue
I stop for a while silence grows deeper
amid a forest of men rooted in crosses
a few young branches withered beforehand
many continue walking falling on their feet
where sky unites with earth
sometimes they raise up

A child is drawing a cross on the pillow
and falls asleep his front sticking to it


(the Merry Cemetery – a famous cemetery in the North of Romania)



Cimitirul Vesel

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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