Poezie
december.
1 min lectură·
Mediu
i dreamt that the sky opened:
all the inhabitants of village-me
collected big buckets and bottles,
put them on the ground, and
caught liters of light
to bathe the starved children
and heal the senior citizens.
next morning, the sky pinched
me awake with cold fingernails.
she informed me that some idiot
had declared it can’t always
be christmas, that children must
outgrow miracles, and nonsense
like the idea that sometimes
we just need to let go
without any help.
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