My bleeding wounded heart’ll stop throbbing
Unconscious of both joy and rage –
Exhausted bird still gasping feebly, a nestling dying in a cage.
My bleeding wounded heart will slow down,
Contractions fading, broken rhyme…
When you feel first soft sounds trembling, when music floods to fill you mind.
My bleeding wounded heart will swing open
To touch indifferent cloud streams,
When rainbow sparkles breathe the colour to black-and-whiteness of your dreams.
My bleeding wounded heart’ll explode
With words and phrases sharp as knives,
When poetry pours down through eyelids of duckweed into lakes of eyes…
Into the lakes of your eyes staring
Those hazel, violet, blue and grey,
Those far and near, sad and happy, those golden, truthful, hoping, brave…
Then breaking into shreds and fragments
Of tissues
planets
veins,
and suns,
My bleeding wounded heart comes flashing
to leave faint trace across the sky…
Photo and rendering: Margarita Siourina