Iiquietudes

She arrives, comes in

Slams the door furiously

And throws the keys away

To keep her far

I beseech aid to Reason

That smiles at me

Like a mom does

When a baby

poses  a weird question

So I turn to Patience that

in straightaway tells me

wait wait

but she’s been there a long time

I say

even when I feel like sleeping

as  an owl

she begins to hoot

and in the morning

when silently

I open the door

to leave her inside

she follows me like my shadow

but

what can I do to get rid of her

wait and hope

don’t  you see

how long  and  white my hair is

ask your Sub-conscious

she then softly whispers  to me

After a long walk

I meet this myself

hidden and unknown

and I also ask him to free me

of the enemy that

with bravado and arrogance

stays in my mind

occupies my thoughts

With a lit torch

the Unconscious shows me infinite paths

dark and intertwined with each other

one life would not be enough

she tells me

to enlighten them all

And so I go back

and 

the banality of everyday life

wraps me again

like an airwave

hot and stuffy

while  assails me the nostalgia for infinity

for the immense meadows

where free blow the winds

Poetry

The inspiring muse

knocks on the doors

of my soul

and offers me emotions

to translate into words

A sort of anxiety

besets me

wherever I am

I look for a pen

or a pencil

a sheet

to stop the thoughts 

I fear may fly away

like leaves torn off by the wind

or fade away

as falling stars

come who knows 

where from

And the sheet tinges with words

in sequences of meanings

that emerge

not searched

not invoked

to resonate like music

whose notes

I didn't know before.

@ Maria Miraglia

Puppets 

Sitting on the stone of time

I let the hours go by

crystallized the moment

not to be guided as a leaf

by the winds

like a dead leaf

but to look beyond 

for that

I told the heart to shut up

and turned on the light of the mind 

A brushstroke of grey

turned off the bright colours

of day and night

erased from the sky

shades of pink

the nuances of gold and blue

reclined the flower corollas

in  the fields

as if united by the same pain

and the cries of the birds

in the skies

weren't joyful

Puppets the passers-by

moved by invisible hands

bizarre and stiff the grimaces,

painted in bright colours

on their wooden faces 

always the same

which created a strange contrast with their legs

in constant motion

in an attempt to touch the ground

under the feet

how sad a sight 

I said to myself

while feeling the desire to go back

open my eyes to the sunlight

that so much dazzles

and so much it hides 

@ Maria Miraglia

MARIA A MIRAGLIA

Dr MARIA A MIRAGLIA is an Italian educationist, bilingual poet, translator, essayist, and ministerial lecturer for English language teachers. For a long time, she has been an active member of Amnesty International and several other peace organizations. She is the Literary Director of the P. Neruda Association and a member of several international editorial boards. The poet has received both national and international recognition and awards. Recently, she was elected a member of the European Academy of Science and Arts of Salzburg. Her latest work is Colourful Butterflies, also edited in her native language.