Tamara Stamenkovic
Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

A dark room

In a dark room of shadows,
there’s so much to see,
so much to hide and find.
Look better, it’s all dark and monochrome.
But if you look sharper, you’ll lose yourself,
floating in the dark
with long-lost thoughts
that once lit the way.

Now, if you keep walking,
you’ll find so much more…
There’s a doll, in the shadows of the past,
that’s where you hold it tight,
scared like a little kid
which you were afraid to let go.
There’s a suitcase between the glare and the moon.
There you are, lying on it,
keeping it from the sight of strangers.
And in the middle of worn boards,
there’s an hourglass,
and inside, your thoughts,
one by one, many and none.
Firestorms and nightmares spill,
wearing out, slipping, they disappear, like you.

The pupils dilate beyond opacity.
First, you notice a spider that doesn’t move
from its web, hidden beneath it,
lies covered in the filth of time.
Second, you can’t help but notice
a frame that breaks down only to touch
the pieces of the picture that fell.
There’s an old, so old
faded picture,
just before the eclipse of the room.
The frame broke, and the picture lost its sparkle
and the power of bringing itself back to life.

Art also stopped,
and time ended with it.
The only lamp that burned,
now is a symbol of the darkest past.
But, in these dark islands
there are still traces of life.
In this abandoned room
you can still hear voices,
which never knew how to talk outside these walls.

You can still smell life,
in the ash residues after you burn the room.
Carved dreams on the wall,
maybe of some other life, after this one.
Dark is no longer dark,
if you go through it.
Black is no longer black,
if you look through it.
Now that you feel like you belong,
as if you were part of the pieces you destroyed,
in a dark room of shadows,
there’s so much more to see;
so much to hide and find.
Turn the hourglass upside down
and start over.

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