Niebla del ángel - Fog of the angel- Bilingûal poetry

in #poetry5 years ago (edited)

¡Saludos cordiales!
Este poema forma parte de un Desafío de 365 días de poesía inspirado en la foto. Esta es mi entrada 143, espero les guste.

Cordial greetings!
This poem is part of a Challenge of 365 day of poetry inspired by the photo. This is my entry 143, I hope you like it.

photo-1553901753-215db344677a.jpg

“Si Dios no es amor, no vale la pena que exista.”

Henry Miller

Niebla del ángel


Desde alta tierra de viento, caída,
soy esta sombra que mira hacia abajo
y no ve más que una mancha de luz
luchando por prevalecer sobre la piedra bruta.
Desnuda, lejos de todo,
sin ojos,
colgando de un hilo fino,
la duda me hace caer y me despierto
pidiéndote que me devuelvas a la niebla del ángel,
a la noche madre
que me habla del alma.
Dime que la tengo,
que soy más que carne y sueño
mordiendo la alegría como un pan
en el hábito brutal,
en ti mismo
creado y devorado.
Por qué vestirnos de misterio
y rodearnos de eternidad
para la muerte,
atados a ver nacer
la aurora por todos los caminos
y, sin embargo, sentirnos prisioneros del odio
y del tiempo
que nos muerde la risa
y nos clava en el vacío ritual de las costumbres
cuando sólo debemos ser y dar amor.



photo-1553901753-215db344677a.jpg

“If God is not love, it is not worth it to exist.”

Henry Miller

Fog of the angel



From high land of wind, fallen,
I am this shadow that looks down
and sees nothing but a stain of light
fighting to prevail over the brute stone.
Naked, far from everything,
without eyes,
Hanging by a fine thread,
doubt makes me fall and I wake up
asking you to return me to the fog of the angel,
to the mother night
that speaks to me of the soul.
Tell me I have it,
that I am more than flesh and dream
biting joy like bread
with the brutal habit,
in you
created and devoured.
Why dress in mystery
and surround ourselves with eternity
for death,
tied up to see born
the dawn by all roads
and still feel like we're prisoners of hatred,
and of time
that bites us laughter
and nails us into the ritual void of customs
when all we have to do is be and give love.







By Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero.

08/04/2019

Photo by
Tyler Casey on Unsplash

Separator:
Cat
Simplemente Gracias

For your kind reading... Thanks!





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Hola @zeleiracordero, muy hermoso.
Bendiciones

¡Gracias queridísima, @martha75!

"the dawn by all roads
and still feel like we're prisoners of hatred,
and of time
that bites us laughter
and nails us into the ritual void of customs
when all we have to do is be and give love."

So true but our programming runs deep and automatic. Changing gears and direction takes time and a desire to go somewhere else. Awesome write, Zeleira:)

Aww... What a beautiful surprise to see you here again, dear @prydefoltz. Thank you!

Thank you, Zeleira. Yes, I am back. Hope to be posting and commenting on a regular basis again:)

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