on my way i saw a woman buried deep in the earth up to her shoulders with her face torn off by the stones thrown at her she was still alive and her long hair rippled in the breeze was it love?, i asked no, she moaned, it was a fight between my owners
what can i do for you?, i enquired nothing, she responded in a fading voice, just take one of these stones and throw it in the running water i sat there combing her long hair with my sad fingers until she died then i took one of the stones - the bloodiest - and continued on my way
on my way i saw a man fastened to a tree with his hands cut off blood was dripping down on the stones he was still alive and his long hair rippled in the breeze was it a fight between your owners?, i asked no, he moaned, it was a war between hunger and me
what can i do for you?, i enquired nothing, he responded in a fading voice, just take one of these stones and throw it in the running water i stood there combing his long hair with my sad fingers until he died then i took one of the stones - the bloodiest - and continued on my way
on my way i saw a couple a boy and a girl the boy was shot in the heart lying on the ground with blood gushing from his chest the girl was hanged on the gallows with blood streaming gently down her nailless fingers joining the boy's blood on the stones they were still alive they both had very short hair
there was no breeze a distant storm loomed in the horizon was it a fight between your owners or a war between you and hunger?, i asked no, they moaned, it was for truth and freedom what can i do for you?, i enquired nothing, they responded in a fading voice, just take one of these stones and throw it in the running water i stayed there caressing their faces with my sad fingers until they died then i took one of the stones - the bloodiest - and continued on my way
i walked for days and for years but i couldn't find any running water
one day i took out the stones and held them in my hands i was tired and the stones were so heavy i cried i cried because i still remembered i should have done something tears were running from my eyes
dripping on the stones washing away the blood dried on them the stones and my fingers were all wet and bloody i threw them up in the air they joined each other and turned into a crow and the crow sat in a tree and started cawing:
it is all for love it is all for love it is all for love
you can still see the tree you can still hear the crow you can still touch a stone what will you do with it?
monday, july 12, 2010
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8 comments:
The tears are blurring the screen - this is not poetry, its the material truth. Your presence, HB, in the posts and in the comments is overwhelming. The claim that you are a 'human being' is discouraging. Thank you anyway.
.
on my way
i came across a greek man
he was walking gracefully along the path
holding a portrait in his hands
i stopped to watch
both the portrait
and the man
unworldly
and beautiful
- are you the painter of this portrait?, i asked curiously
- portrait? this is just a mirror
- a mirror? put it down please
the man leaned the mirror against a post
in front of me
the portrait was gone
nothing was there
except darkness
- ah...
this is your soul
souls
unlike mirrors
reflect the beauty within
.
crows have a very harsh voice... but selfishly love to be listened to...
and i'm wearing a crow mask
:)
namaste to you dear Bob
This is extremely powerful hb, and it echoes something I've been feeling: it's the storytellers and artists who have the most power to transform a brutal reality, not the politicians or religious leaders.
.
on my way
i came across a singing traveler
i stopped to listen
his language was so unfamiliar
yet all the songs he sang
were so familiar to me
same as the sun to a tree
or a tree to a bird
or a bird to the sky
- who are you?, i asked
- people call me poet
- and what do you call yourself?
- i'm nothing but an echo
- echo of what voice?
- the voice of your soul
i continued on my way
singing
.
Francis...
in my country poetry/art has always been a savior through the history... i know what you mean...
thanks for your appreciative words...
what a powerful and stunning piece of work.Great art!!
Akeith...
i'm sitting here reading your words... and thinking to myself about the power of words... the world before and after each word uttered...
and i noticed i'm living in a quite different world after your comment...
:)
this holds true for any work of art... any expression...
and just imagine how much change i experienced when i first saw rhoda's visual response to this narrative...
all of you are gems!
thanks for reading and leaving your nice words here... thanks for the change...
So moving so touching in such a unrevengeful way from all the dieing in the moving words.Bless your words
ah... thanks dear new friend... for this 'little bit of sunshine' which can melt a huge iceberg!
revenge doesn't change anything... but understanding does... no?
:)
thanks a lot for reading and leaving these encouraging words... they mean a lot!
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