From “The shade of old spectacles”
Fresh paint on the walls
Sometimes still gives a way for the colours underneath
To be hit by sunlight.
Once upon a time, a child with none of those walls
Had to pile up pieces of himself
To make a shell.
Leaving a tiny window whose glass polarized reality in a way
That it didn’t cause pain.
Lenses to make sense of the chaos out there.
They bend the beams of light
Kiss your cortex and hug your soul
Spells, illusions, rear-view mirrors that makes threats appear further away than they truly are
And they seemed far in the past
But they’re playing with you right now.
Still haunting your head.
Slithering behind and yet so close to you.
Witch, a childhood friend
The mask we made out of hay and strings of worn out jeans
To fight the battles that we never could
The one who can deal with the green scales coming at us.
She is part of us
She is the filter we needed to look at things on the bright side
The gloves we needed to handle fire
But now we want to touch someone’s soft skin
The fresh grass and the crops of the wheatfields
With our bare hands
She is us.
And now you must ask yourself what really matters?
The flower is not like the dependant and toxic mother
But we fight to make it that way
The landscape is not the dried desert that it used to be
But we can’t help seeing it that way
The tree is not doomed to be dead forever
But we are used to things being that way
The snakes are not as venoumous as they seem
But we secretely wish they were that way.
That is the witch within us
Who protected us in this dry land
Who gave us water
Put a hand on our eyes blinding us from the threat
Of the many reptiles all around
Serpents, the hardships of life
Abuse, addiction, anxiety
Pain and death
But it is time to open our eyes.
It is time to heal.
It is time to give some rest to the wicked
Make peace with the witch.
The witch, our childhood friend
We don’t have to make her our enemy
We have to understand her
Kiss her on the cheek and say goodbye.
It is time to heal.