From “The colour of wheatfields: Phase II (untitled)”
Through a dirty window
I see a blurred city
Each light and shadow
Tells a trivial story.
And I, wearing a brown sweater
Stains in my shower
From when I washed the dirt of my old life,
I contemplate outside that window
Almost ignoring the reflection
Of my silhouette
That I thought was shaped like sorrow.
But I know who I am
I can see the city lights on my forehead
My eyes like two stars in the sky
My cheeks shifting from green to red
I am colored according to the streets
I am colored according to all those stories
But little did I know they were mine.
And these colors remind me
Of trivial things I gave too much importance
And trivial things I should make more important
Like my brown sweater or my green cheek
Not the dirt stains or the dirty street
Not the disease and the fear
But those moments of peace and cheer
Moments when I breathe
Without expecting to stop breathing
Moments when I fall asleep
Telling myself that I’ll wake up
That I am fine
And I have woken up.
My lips touched the mud of this beautiful world
On the bed of the river
That was inside my mind
Where grass is tall and trees hard to find
Where you gaze at things that don’t matter and forget about what makes you blind
Blind because you’re not scared and dare
With love in your heart,
To close your eyes.