Gabriella Garofalo
To B.
Just a word, light,
Why do you always smash them young?
Are you by any chance resentful
Of a lost age, the force flowing through blades of grass,
Or are you just dying for the harsh taste of scars?
I know, it happens sometimes,
When all hopes get lost,
And only blue gives you life,
No wonder, then, if souls hound you, light,
Blind to old tales dispersing forsaken gods,
To a blue winter playing the renegade
All jerks and fits-
But don’t look, now, light,
At summer blows striking your eyes,
Just send births to heaven,
Never mind if dark drapes hide you away,
You’ll soon feed on the meadows,
And in fresh stares your soul will rise,
No doubts, no cares, no requests,
Father knows better, that’s why
He shuns those ripe red apples,
And their lousy allure-
Who knows, maybe a shining meadow, God,
Will dazzle you, if you chance on him
Among mislaid trees, impossible stars,
While winter, or sham lights, are gathering
Over your flops, and blue summer hits
Make you, sun, look a foolish trinket.
Other work by Gabriella Garofalo