A poem dedicated to …
Disciplines:
My chair was smashed
I was sent to the corner
To look away
While it is taken away
I was building a throne
Of my own flesh
Glued by my veins
Tied with my hair
But facing the wall
It’s dragged away
I hear the soil wallow
My shadow is my witness
The wall is not a journey
The wall is a lie
A hard commandement
A fraud
Behind my eyes
I see beyond the wall
If I can’t look back
I start by looking down
My feet on the ground
My truth
I am here
At the dead end
To turn without turning back
To twirl and wander
Bending, rolling, jumping, flying
Anything but standing still
What is left of my throne anyway
What was the point
Who am I
After the wall
The air, the soil
The wall, the past
My flesh reborn
My throne of bones
I grow life around
And on me
My body is a village
I invade the wall
All my feet touches
Is lush
Where I lean
Bloom marks the imprint
I am
My throne and my everything
I am
Here
A poem dedicated to …