THE WOMB

You started being,
little lost star.
You started being,
inside of me,
in my very flesh,
in my own scars.

What happened when the thunder broke?
What happened after midnight?

I didn't sense it,
the knock,
and I blame myself,
I blame myself,
it never seems enough.
Because it is not.

Something died that day,
something beautiful and tiny.
So tiny I couldn't acknowledge it.
So tiny I couldn't even imagine.

Something died that day,
something deep and real.
Something so mine it scares me.
Something so mine I am homeless.

The womb is a sick tree,
put out the fire,
cut the thread.

Come, whoever you are,
and break my bones until I bleed my poems.
The black vultures are eating the forgotten reminders.

The pain is real.
The touch is wounded.
I am homeless.

ZURE BEGIEN BILA NOA

Barkatu.
Horrela hasi nahi dut eta horrela hasiko naiz.
Beste hitz guztiak apurtu,
ez dutelako balio, ezin dutelako nire dardara idatzi, nire beldurra saldu.

Barkatu.
Izar izaten ikusi zintudan eta orain zerua ikutu nahi dut.
Hori da nire kartzela eta ez du axola hor egon behar badut, zai, zai,
agian inoiz gertatuko ez den erokeriaren bat itxaroten.

Baina itxaropena beti dabil nirekin dantzan, zer nahi duzu nik egitea,
nola askatzen dut, nola utzi joaten, arnasa hartzen laguntzen badit, zauriak josten, irauten.

Nola askatzen dut, zure ideia nirekin nahi badut, gustatzen bazait, ilunabarraren antzera, ez joan oraindik, ez joan oraindik, minutu bat, ez dizut gehiago eskatzen, ez dut nahi, aske zara, ni bezala, baina ikusi zintudan, hori izan zen lege apurketa, iraultza, bihotza ametsetan jartzea.

Zerua hankaz gora.
Izarrak lurrean.
Hostoak irribarrez eta ni bueltaka.

Zure begien bila noa.