domingo, 26 de maio de 2013

Bright Shadow of Mine

Where is that man who strangely looks like you?
Where does he hover on those workers dawn?
In which tails does he stroll your way of moving around?
Your way of laughing out loud?

That same little move with the lips
As I waved goodbye to your shadow - and she didn't care.
I imagine her now strolling along my body
Challenging miles and speed humps, flooding my senses, drowning me in nonsense.

Where can he be, that man? Where does he hide even after
I've finally found him among bright shapes moving
Just in front of my eyes every dawn, every white silken dawn?

And why do I dream your shadow as being Real, able to feel, to touch?
Able to speed up hearts, to kidnap sleeps, to spell out words?
Why do I dream your shadow as if she could paint your
Old shabby colours suddenly gone from my canvas?
Gone through inner desolation roads on this lost land

Hosting fate, all children of choice... and circumstance. 

Maria Fernandes

terça-feira, 21 de maio de 2013

Language is Nationality

When any citizen away from his country ends up prostituting his own mother language, in that very moment what is there left from his Nation?

Maria Fernandes