Winter


I opened my dictionary of life to try to find words to describe how I feel, because I was unable to describe it myself.


Postado por Ronni Anderson no dia 14 de agosto de 2016

I opened my dictionary of life to try to find words to describe how I feel, because I was unable to describe it myself.
I looked for words, or at least for a single one, to define my moment.
A word powerful and strong enough to describe the terrible suffering that I feel.
A word that would describe the pain of the world that I carry everyday.
A word with which I could stretch this suffering to its limit and extinguish it from my chest.

Distressed, afflicted, sad, desperate, genuinely hurt.
Bereft.
Horrified, scared, alone, melancholic, blue.
Disconnected, dreary, morose, heartbroken.
In agony.
In hurtful desire.
Inconsolable, woebegone.
And sorry.
Always very sorry.

None of them described the moment though.
None of them will ever describe what this feeling is about.
Abandoned by everyone?
Not a single soul to dare to say “You are okay?”
Am I okay?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me when I am alone with nothing else I can see in me?
Can you feel me when I struggle to feel everything else?

I see no sign of Spring.
I don’t even seem to have the abilities needed to face Spring.
My bare hands are unable to handle the beauty of flowers.
My cold feet solely recognise the coldness of ice over soil.
No one to say it is coming.
No one to encourage me to feel the warm spells Spring brings.

Sorry.
Weak I am.
I wish I were like you who smiles when things greatly hurt.
I will mourn and cry as if just newborn. Like someone who has not walked much around this world but discovered very quickly the pain of the roses’ thorns.
Weeping silently in the middle of the crowd.
Sobbing in the inner core of my being.
Praying for it to go.
Praying to one day feel full again.

*Special thank to my friend Mark Stenhoff for kindly revising this poem.