I was taught..
that I was born..
descending from the dark..
womb of mother in a rush of blood…
An slippery body in shivering..
brutally deprived of warmth..
without a rythm…a paceful walk…
tiny heart uncompassed..
tiny world as a budding rose..
promise of blooming..
scents of heaven and fading thorns..
I have dreamed about an unwinged angel..
prancing and dancing on her toes..
Descending from equal darkness..
an stair of innocence engraved in names..
I have been called since from..
She illuminates my darkness..
as a lazy lightingbug…
lost in the grassy pathway..
cold at touch.. and vibrant at show.
She is not winged…
nor I am..
for what i recall..
but is as ethereal as the odours..
sensual presence of the world..
outside and inside her soul..
I would say.. she is my unwinged essence..
just before the heavy lids of dormants..
tried to close mine… intimate core.
Little Angel in my rescue..
flesh and spirit..
guided by the Light..which is always at hand..
when one sees through it…
darkness… mother´s womb.
@ Copyright Rosa Cobos 2009 . All rights reserved