From the Origin of Things

I keep always inside a secret oak chest,

invisible, safe and inviolable,

all my prayers and hopes, loves and troubles,

triumphs and defeats, hugs, dismay and discomfort.

They are a mosaic of the days I have lived, witnesses

of laughter and affection, tears and sobs, which show

that I did not run away from life, having lived it honoring

the sacredness with which it was once conceived.

They will be the passport for my re-entry into the fellowship

to the one who sent us to this common arena of smuggles,

afflictions and despairs and, from time to time,

happiness, fearlessness, even a certain human pride.

Sometimes this chest becomes heavy and unbearable,

and I need to empty it, because other days and passions

are waiting to be cloistered.

Hidden from human eyes, I open it and its content is burned;

emanations are mingled with the clouds of heaven, and,  

like an old Pandora’s box, give rise to bonanzas, lulls,  

besides, occasionally, storms and thunders.

Luckily, to date, tornadoes and hurricanes have not appeared.

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

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