Covered yet naked,she falls everywhere in pieces, sometimes dry, other times wet, some days she comes and clings, some days she just leaves. She looks serene and firm but with every touch, she gets disturbed, life has left footprints all over her, she is in pain bearing it with care.
I had met her once,
years ago, when in the arms of
the old man, in that village
I met my grandpa. His love felt
unconditional, so immense, like God’s. He showed her to me
through the window
„look” my dear she
is here just for you. It is spring! her
time to melt from love and flow,yet she had come to
march in her white dress.
My eyes saw the
magic through that old window. Cotton pieces or
feathers?
Falling from the
heaven she was arriving, she sat and her
skirt fell all over the place, Before she came,
the villagers knew she was there!
Warm on our side of
the window, to the tempting
look of grandpa which carried the sound of permission
I went out to touch
her, a handshake, a kiss, a hug, cold on other side
of the window, I tenderly touched
her.
She looked gentle
and tender but cold, she was cold!
Regret from the
touch, unexpected, disappointed,my hands frozen I stepped
back. I saw the hole and
walked back
I had disturbed the
perfect surface of the snow. I walked back and
my footprints all over her dress,Oh what had I done? In One step in the warm side of the window , only my footprints
on her skirt!
Oh what had I done?
To grandpa’s love I
said: Oh I destroyed her. „Everybody steps on
the snow”,he said,„it is water, only
frozen”.
My eyes caught by
the diamonds she was wearing, I was humbled, she was rich, beautiful,majestic
yet chose to bear
the footsteps of Loved ones.
Norway 2012-02-05
Pari The Muse
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