Sunken Pain... - Poem by Aleksandra Szymanska
What can you find in a forest apart from ancient trees,
velvety waft of air, and silence growing in bliss?
A silver mist which kisses young, fragile leaves as they tremble?
Or maybe a moss-cushioned stem of cracked, wooden heart, but still stable?
Perhaps you can find a path hidden between woodland flowers,
and you can walk enjoying the nature's heart beat for hours...
And you can feel how it merges with the beat of your own, human heart,
so that you and the nature unite and don't ever part...
And what can you find when you bend over a green, bushy fern?
And reading its rolled up head, what do you see and learn?
And what do you find when you look at its time-incised, long, slender leaves?
What can you hear when their whisper becomes a mysterious hiss?
What can you feel when they start to tell a story of gloom,
saying the sunken lines on their face are born from a dark secrets' womb?
You learn they've been fed with juices from the depth of the saddened ground,
the ground which holds a mystery nobody has ever found...
You listen to the sighs of the crying, ancient, wise, fern,
you listen, gulping heavily the mood that grows rather stern.
You embrace the discovery with the arms of your pain-struck heart,
you swallow the taste of the history which now is your new body part...
It's your brain with the chamber of pain that batters the need to forgive,
it's your eye that sees the naked truth which in dark for so long had to thrive...
It's the tongue of your beaten soul when it twists trying the taste of lies,
it's the stomach of your identity which is stuffed with innocent cries.
So you leave the forest and go, take new burden on your shoulder,
feeling like a fossil with the fern's imprint, as you run away and wonder...
And the skin on your hand exposes the newly carved, painful furrow -
intaglio of digging up, then burying back the stolen tomorrow...
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