the sleep of the gods

once I met an old and wise woman with a shriveling body
that kind of women resembling very old and knotty oak trees
growing in the graveyard of the innocents
she told me that she does not intend to sell me lies and fairy tales
because there are very very old trees that don’t fall asleep
unless the birds of the sky disenchant them
in their sweet and tender mother tongue
so new flower buds can open sometimes

I started to complain that I don’t want to be awake all of the time
but she retorted that only God alone does not sleep
and that’s why very tall trees are cut down
to avoid the winking from their leaves
and that’s why the foresters don’t guard the dreams of the ones
who stay high on tiptoe
because necessity is the mother of wisdom
of those who understand what it means to be just human
in the children’s world
of wondering and un-wondering

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

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