POETIC DELIGHTS BY FRANCA COLOZZO-ITALY
1-THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS
Wings spread to the wind, they rise
In a silent procession,
Drifting like feathers,
They ascend into flight
From the hospital in Gaza,
Struck to the ground by a missile,
Tearing through its ancient heart.
They all rise together like Seraphim
Stolen from the games of another time.
The game of massacre now knows no end.
Crow`s wings fly over the ruins,
Brushing against angel wings in the sky.
The evening turns pale
Amidst ghostly figures.
Only the rubble mourns the dead,
Dead without a true reason,
A common burial remains
For scattered limbs.
The children are no longer afraid,
The hellish roars fall silent,
Hunger and thirst fall silent.
Their creations are offered to God
By grieving mothers as a gift.
From the altars of light, a dark image,
A sacrilegious land reveals
The infamous offspring of Cain.
2-CROSSING OVER IN RED
When I die, dress me in red
To celebrate the joy of my crossing over.
Jasmine flowers in my long hair
To meet woodland and sea nymphs.
Give me a rosary in hand as a prayer
To God so that He may forgive my sins.
In the afterlife, we are all equal and brothers,
Men here struggling in grotesque battalions
Of puppet warriors in rows of demons.
When Atropos cuts the thread of life
Let eternal youth smile upon me.
Scatter incense on my bare feet.
I will encounter galaxies in vivid colors,
Touch Selene in a flash of light
And carry a ray of sunshine with me.
When I die, do not weep, I beg you,
Let my dress be of a cheerful color
A spark of life lit in the darkness.
3-PANDORAS BOX
It travels miles light
a cry left unburied.
Memory now grieves and tears scattered
now dried up by the sun.
Arid, the desert cries out for justice
but nothing moves under masks
of rigid iron,
all is subject to the empire of evil
that knows no respite,
only power and money.
The present is so bitter
as gall, and silent is the waiting
that hopes for spring.
Nothing but desolation
Among incubated shrubs in embryo,
nor flowers or new loves.
Even the swallows
Fear to tease in flight
and gulls seek food elsewhere,
no longer in the sea,
but where only stray cats
rummage through trash and weeds.
Uncovered is Pandora's box,
lonely is the bastard song
of those who seek and do not find,
crowding dreams among barbarians
forgiveness in a dark time
that knows no reason.
Only shadows stagnate
among the rubble of torn houses.
Corpses, mowed down by hatred,
shout vengeance to the sky.
AUTHOR:
Literary Biography: https://www.larecherche.it/biografia.asp?Utente=bastet&Tabella=Biografie
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