Thursday, November 1, 2018

MARIA MIRAGLIA



MARIA MIRAGLIA

THE MOON

I get close to the window
of my lonely room and
with my hand shape a circle
on the fogged glass
to see outside
some lampposts dimly enlighten
the deserted avenue where
a stray cat is in search of a shelter
and  the leaves of the alders
seem to tremble
in the wind
faintly come from afar
the noises of the cars
still coming and going


The moon and her flickering maidens
framed in the great canvas
spread their white light
while watching over the men’s dreams
how many the  secrets they keep
of us  on earth and
our troubled lives
night after night
with synchronous rotation
never tired
never complaining
to follow the celestial order
over and over again
@ Maria Miraglia






LIFE AND DEATH

I crossed the time
among mists cold winters
and sun-drenched mornings
observed the blue skies
where stars smiled at each other
from afar
saw flocks of birds arrive
from distant lands
and leave when the leaves
began falling down
admired red sunsets
and pearly sunrises
quickly following each other
and get lost
in the night of the time

new lives have crowded
the streets of the world
like multicoloured flowers
blooming in spring
and many peter their vital energy
like glowing candles
oblivious of their consumptions
in the very act of their burning

how many more the seasons
that will come
of how many of them
will I still admire the colours
and smell the scent
until the Angel of Death comes
and snatches me from life
it's for a long time
his journey began
since my first cry
in the welcoming arms
of my mother

but
will his step be slow
or fast will he ride his black steed
@ Maria Miraglia






IN THE SILENCE

It almost scares me
this intimate feeling of peace
deep penetrating
that gives the sense of suspension
of detachment

Noises and anxieties
seem to have vanished
in the sweet air
of  the summer eve

But a sudden thought
like the hoarse cawing
of a crow
among goldfinches
merrily twittering
disturbs my quietness

How long will it last
I wonder
while
in the silence
the fright of the elusive
of the unpredictable
poisons the air

And the fear
of impending storms
destroying the garden of roses
with care cultivated
over the time
invades my mind and spirit
@
MARIA MIRAGLIA




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