I was tired of reshuffling the stars
in silent night.
Will you come and stay with me
for a while? I will give you
my light years to reach the hurting valley.
Sit down beside me
and rest your head on my drooping shoulders.
Together we will cross the dark river
of doubts conversing with fireflies.
You are carrying my unborn children
in your deep thoughts.
Flesh, blood and bones
pain between the ribs
and arrhythmic throbs.
Small pebbles on the beach
we are dreaming an ocean in our eyes.
Waves are high and wind is strong.
We are ready to drink the blue sky.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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