I have seen the wars of destruction.
The long grip and translucent shadow.
I have witnessed its growth, without
And within me, its birth is an easy one, every time.
It is an inherent demon, born across your heart,
A heavy one with long fingers, a-twisting.
I chose to amputate the pest weeds across my muscular organ.
I steered myself, outer and inner, toward
The ever-glistening shores of creation.
I reconstruct what has been torn apart.
I orchestrate re-births, revolutions, I approach
Vicious circles with scissors and new earth.
I believe in regeneration because I’ve seen death and decay.
I believe in the spirit because I’ve witnessed the body in action.
I turn everything into gold that you hand to me, to combat me,
I’m entering a garden, of letters and sentences and images
Where your rot becomes a seed healed, a seed reoriented,
Redefined and cared for, a thing facing its own light.
I nourish demonised creations, watering them, cleansing them,
So that they finally see their human face and acknowledge different ways.
“Portrait einer jungen Frau mit direktem Blick zum Betrachter” by Simon Glücklich (1863-1943)
