it was a world where I was allowed to look on the window
and nothing else
every day I thought to myself that life was a wonder
like all the other things known by good people
being grateful
to have eyes that see and a functional heart amid mortals
feeling so happy

util one day
when some people pulled my hair my feet my belly button
my nipples my heart my intestines
when I was young enough to believe that my life was
granted until old age
the same as I respected others’ lives
or the being and the unbeing
that were supposed to be god to me

but it was only an optical illusion
like the eyes of a child through the steamy window
the happiest child in the world as I used to call myself
because everyone fooled me
to be too clear-headed and sober to never get high on dreams
to believe that life is what it is and never what you wish for
99% pain and 1% joy

no one understood why a woman like me
who wore rags and was brutalized every day
was still loving and trusting people so much
that she hoped they will stop telling her
that she has to carry a too heavy cross by herself

then came the ones who stole the dreams and planted hatred and lies
as foundation for their mausoleums atheneums and universities
it was a black and dry forest
that it will always be the same
that in the world of primates and other living beings
viruses unicellular organisms and so on
only the fight and the one who has sharper teeth count
because the world of human beasts is like history tells and foretells
governed by powerful and cruel people
and only those who are good die young

now it is seldom raining and the wind calmed down too much
you can hear only the neighbors dusting off small carpets
about half an hour
it is crystal-clear now why I was so happy in the past
because I was raised like this in perfect silence
even though I had only the right to look on the window
to compare the blue of the sky at 9 A.M. with the blue at 4 P.M.
and all beautiful moments passed by like this

but I was obstinate to be myself beyond their unwritten rules
along with other lonely women swallowed as if they were holy wafers
in the world where they say that life is a fight
in the world where such women do not have the right to fight
but are tied to the pillar of shame since childhood

and you can see them how they pour down
sweating crying urinating bleeding alone
until the sky steals from them their last bitterness
damned be the rain

Categories: My poems in 2016, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

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