Monday, November 8, 2010

the art of dying gracefully

I am dying to be heard. I cannot get the words out.
I am dying to be understood. I cannot get the right words out.
I am dying to be validated. I cannot get the right words out to express this need.
I am dying to be completely loved without breaking these walls down.


Without letting you in.
Without letting you know me.
Without giving you the right words which would help me be heard.


And understood.


And validated.


And loved.

1 comment:

casa da poesia said...

ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE" SAPPHÓ !!!

Song of the Rose
For Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.

Poem by Sappho, Lesbo, Ereso, 640 a.c.circ.

Thanks