Savage Winds
There are trees, growing in houses. Pierce the walls and the sealings go higher.
Next to them the stairs, the furniture, vases left empty until...,
Fountains overloaded with sweets in case...
There are trees that start from the inside of bedrooms with four walls.
Their roots feel the cracks on the tiles, grasp on the sidewalls, and nothing will stop them from beating the rooftop and reach out for the sky.
There are trees,
as there are fears inside human bodies, as there are thoughts ending up with once and for all, within random associations and countless ordinary thoughts.
As there are dreams not made from the substance that dreams are made of.
There are griefs within smiles,
departures are hidden in arrivals,
deaths, little deaths with no funerals neither exhumation after three years
(no one is passing by to light up the candle),
there are winds within glances,
bird cages on balconies made of memories,
empty hugs with the one missing instead of being.
And just like those trees in those houses, grow tall,
multiply, become a forest.
Acquire their own flora and fauna,
strange creatures start to live inside them, seasons circle differs from ours.
Weird winds are created by low barometric,
and in case an intruder shows up,
he is blown away with them.
And as the years are passing by,
each forest acquire a life of its own,
senses, purpose, desires
-different from the "land" that hosts or occupies.
Finally, it acquires consciousness and silently,
without the slightest noise,
opens its eyes.
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