Poetry

I could fly over the entire world crashing with my wings at people

Through all limitations and restrictions,
like a bird with a ring around my neck,
somewhat insidious, it seems,
I flew through the gates of the pupils
of people without eyes,
recording every place I went to,
carrying metal wires around my thighs.

I took pictures with my eyes,
of every moment that was
a little more special than the previous one,
and I found out that I could fly
over the entire world crashing with my wings
at people and barriers
just to lure them into my lap.

But, another discovery,
another barrier in front of me,
last stop, last place,
pleasant to the lenses of my eyes.
A place where I couldn’t get in,
occupied with blue and livid colors.
I felt a chilling coldness
and the waves of forbidden oceans
that hit my chest,
pushed me away and flooded a part of my freedom,
along with the wings.
I humbly left, but my being remained.

In March, I returned to those same pupils,
to erase each step,
to get my map back,
in which all the destinations were crossed out,
while you continued your search
of routes where I once needed you.
And you tore up the pages of my atlas
when I stopped being an interesting place to visit.

Now I’m learning to walk through the mountains,
though I miss the sky.
But, if one day
you decide to follow my footsteps,
I’ll leave you a red ribbon sprinkled with powder
next to my farewell stamp,
so you can count every inch
of a wasted life spent on giving a key
to those who didn’t deserve you,
only to drown in your oceans.

The terrifying ghosts of my face
will hunt you through forests and swamps,
a wandering flock of birds will hover over you,
similar to me, birds with wild hearts.
Red road signs and emerald hair
will reflect in the light that lures you,
you will be an easy victim,
a rather nice ending,
shallow, childish confidence
given in the clues that I’ll leave behind.

But you won’t know that,
when you fall on my chest,
it will be hollow,
a black hole and a waiting room
for people without eyes.
I became a savior
of someone else’s cliché fantasy,
intellectually and irresistibly.

Everything you will know is that
in front of your magnificent barrier
my wings didn’t break.
That was the place where I just left them
watching you tread on them,
so I can pick up traces of ash
after learning how to walk
and to spill them after I’m gone,
so that you would see how I can fly freely again
when you find me.

Leave a Reply