Back in Life

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What can I recall?
The question’s tough
But most of all
It brings no laugh.
I can recall the light;
A blinding one,
Like when losing sight
Looking at the sun.
Then, I recall walking
Along a corridor
And hearing some talking
Behind a closed door.
I knocked three times
To get reply none
But endless cries
And prayers alone.
Silently I entered
And before me I saw
A figure white-feathered
Surrounded by glow.
I can’t recall the face
Neither the gender
Nor the age
Of this heavenly sender.
But I recall that
Just blowing my heart
Sent me back.

A Dreamy Dance

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I danced with her last night
Among the stars up in the sky
Under the pale moonlight
We danced and sang and fly.
It was a dreamy dance
Without music in the air
I can still smell the fragrance
Of her loose long hair.
She was delicate and fair
Like a princess in a ballroom
Like an ancient goddess heir
With an everlasting doom.
Cursed to be always alone
Only seen through drink and drug
My dear imagination come
Let’s dance and sing and hug.
“Not any more” said she
Walking away decisively
And then suddenly
The nurse awakened me.

My Baby Boy

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In my arms I hold
My newborn baby boy,
On my cheek I feel
Pouring tears of great joy
And a happiness untold.
Look! How innocent he is,
How fragile and small
And without any doubt
He’s the prettiest of all!
My baby boy I kiss.
Will his mouth tell
Always the truth and right?
Will his little hands
Give a justice fight?
Will his mind ever excel?
Watching his sad eyes
I feel guilt and regret;
What I’ll always owe him
How can I forget?
Such a burden in disguise.
Yet, as I see his smile,
I am alive.

Emma: Back in the 50s

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Emma was 10 years old, the eldest child of a poor twelve-member family, when she was obliged to hard work. Soon enough she realized two things: First that assembled people were equal to increased prospects and second that she had to offer a product in need. She walked from fair to fair holding a basket full of beautiful purple lilies which she had picked up by herself, hoping that some fine gentlemen would want to offer them to their beloved ladies. Night after night she returned home with empty pockets, realizing just another thing: there was no gentleness in life.

At the age of 11, Emma was helping her uncle to sell refreshments down on the beach. In order to get there on time she had to take the short way crossing an active mine-field. Determination was stronger than fear, so that every morning she was there on the sand selling cool sodas. And she was doing fine until that one unbearably hot day she got thirsty. Her uncle, catching her drinking a soda, went mad, scolded and beat her up for stealing. Emma’s begging for forgiveness didn’t go in vain, for she learnt another thing: there was no mercy.

The winter was harsh and 15 years old Emma was walking against the snow dragging a big bag, heading to the military camp to deliver the soldier’s laundry. In sight of her frozen image, one soldier opened the gate and helped her get inside releasing her burden off her shoulders. Then he gently took off her torn out coat in order to dry it. Just when Emma considered him as a fine gentleman, he started touching her violently all over. Struggling for release, she managed to grab his gun and replied to his begging for mercy with a fatal shot.

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