Learning to listen.

Listen to the sound of the silence around you, the lines between the words spoken, the talk inside you. What do you hear?

WINTER 2019.

Snow flakes

falling,

foxes

hiding,

people

freezing.

A squirrel

keeps on running

up and down

the trees,

hastily,

looking for a

nut

or two,

finding

none.

FOR A SECOND OR TWO.

(Christmas 2018)

 

A child

is born.

The world

stands still.

For a second

or two:

no fighting,

no dying,

no shedding of tears,

no fear -

just light

and love,

lingering in our

melted hearts

for a second.

Or two.

Winter morning in the park

The lake

lies frozen.

Silence

everywhere.

The woman

with the tiny dog

walks

her lonely

rounds.

BEWARE MY TONGUE.

I am multilingual,

my tongue is twisting and twirling

words born by the winds

of the east and the west,

the north and the south,

words chewed on in chapels and chairs,

spat out in streets and salons,

words silenced by seniors

and cried out by crowds.

I am multilingual.

Beware my tongues!

THE MAZE.

Meandering

in the maze

of everyday life

I am searching for

Hansel's bread crumbs

to find my way

home.

HAZY DAYS.

Hazy days

blurring traces

of lives

long

gone.

WE LIVE.

We live

by broken

promises,

feed on

hopes

rising from the

ashes.

 

LEAVES FALLING.

Leaves

falling

slowly.

Chimneys exhaling smoke

stand alone.

Somewhere

someone

is playing

piano.

THE DISTANT HILLS.

The distant hills

are covered in

mist.

The rain is falling

silently.

Next door a baby

is

crying.

I don't believe in the saying that every hardship makes you stronger. I believe that every hardship leaves you more brittle, more sensitive for the next quake, fearful, distrusting, watchful. It leaves you like a broken piece of porcelain that is glued together and put on the shelf again. You will always see the scars and they will always be the weakest points. As soon as the next quake sets in, the porcelain piece will fall off the shelf and it will be exactly these glued lines that will break open again. Maybe the porcelain should never be put back on the shelf again, maybe it should seek some solid ground, some sheltered corner, so as not to fall too hard. There is no superglue to mend the scars of life's hardships so that you come out stronger. It just isn't true.