“I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.”(Samuel Beckett)
“My life: a calvary without hope of crucifixion.”(Sara Bini)
Versione italiana al link: Sgranata
"Don't touch a butterfly's wings, otherwise it won't fly anymore!" we were told as children when, as if by magic, we managed to catch one of these magnificent creatures. The following poem is a tribute to them.
Since the dawn of every culture, the butterfly has been a symbol of the extreme brevity of existence on this planet and, at the same time, it represents the supreme gift of itself through beauty. When the wings of this creature are touched, they unfurl and can no longer fly... but their 'death' exudes colours in stardust.
At this moment I too feel as if my wings have been touched and extinguished. It is as if the final stripping away of all colour, all perception of love, meaning, design and confidence in the future is taking place. Living with this inner death on a daily basis is the supreme challenge: my hope is to disappear sweetly in a light and graceful transcendence, leaving the iridescence of my wings to the magnificent children that are coming to this planet. The light in their eyes is already a promise of salvation for the free and brave humanity that is resisting brutalisation and abuse.
GRAINY
Grainy,
like a butterfly's wing,
my life in a beat
burns,
blinds
Mild,
death tastes of tears
and light.
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