On streets and alleys, squares and corners,

roads, meadows and mountains,

walking or anchored in the sun, moon, rain

or snow, in a the good mood; sometimes,

in a mood swing; we go discovering new friends.

Attracted by similarities or else curious

for the differences, we enrich our mind and

happily dip into other tastes and treats, what

always alleviates our day to day.

Some of these friends, in due time or even

instantly, are chosen to be our lovers;

this is the natural way of things and

we must not deny it.

But, friends or lovers, we must not forget

to take them from our conquered mind,

yet conquered spirit, to the inner of heart

and feel if it remains in peace.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit”, our Lord said,

and I dare to say: blessed are the rich in the heart!

Published in Indiana Voice Journal, February 2017 issue.

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com

Somewhere, sometime, in the old East Lands,

in a spot relieved for four rivers, shadowed

by luxurious a garden, at royal a manor house

and by one sixth labor day, we awakened to life.

Made on the Creator’s likeness, by many years

we enjoyed His care and His love.

Once, by uncovering life secrets,

like good and evil,

our ancestors were banished,

having been locked the Paradise Gate

and initiated hard and harsh our toiling.

How long more will last our penalty?

When and where should we meet again?

Although heavy sternness demonstrated,

be aware many of us still venerate You,

and, some, still love.

We hope to see once more inhabited

that manor house where all has begun,

and, appeasing Your heart,

You disarm some cherubims’ flaming swords.

Today I opened my mourning’s season.

I cried for the lack of solidarity and brotherhood,

for the existence, till today, of countries’ borders,

increasing inequalities and suffering among people;

for the estrangement among whites and blacks,

yellows and browns, Christians and Muslims;

for the rich who reach water from golden faucets

and the poor who carry it in the buckets;

for the wine and salmon tables of the mansions

and yesterday’s bread passing from hand to hand;

for the security of the politicians for the coming years

and the fear of the common people for tomorrow;

for the dreams of the righteous, that have not come true

and the audacity of the insolents who are not intimidated;

for my lack of faith that everything is in our Lord’s hands

and in His extreme love for us.

My tears have washed my body and eased my soul.

When I die, no need to cry more.

I have already cried for what matters, at least for me.

Published in Red Wolf Journal, November 16, 2016.

http://www.redwolfjournal.wordpress.com

Published in Spirit Fire Review, issue 10, June 2017.

http://www.spiritfirereview.com

Half divine and half human,

sons of God and cousins to the angels, those

of the pure lineage as well of the fallen ones.

Always wavering from earth to the heavens,

we must give way to the ground sustaining

and sheltering strange while lovely dreams,

some nocturnal ones, some in the sunlight.

Although to pure blue of heavenly landscapes,

we prefer the brown ochre of our native earth,

smelling of dear sinful brothers and sisters,

faithful companions of suffering a race.

Race that, since the dawn of our era, has colonized,

at God’s command and by hard a toil, all the lands

of so rough otherwise sometimes exquisite a world.

Published in Red Wolf Journal, November 4, 2016.

http://www.redwolfjournal.wordpress.com

Sometime, somewhere in the East Lands,

there was a spot relieved by four rivers,

right place to settle shadowed a garden.

A traveling Potentate loved the scenery,

took possession of it, there building

magnificent a manor house.

Having not a hermit’s heart and His will

for creation unsatisfied,

and applying unsuspected powers,

He created, by a saint sixth labor day,

a new nation, now known as the humans.

Love and the desire to create, the bequest

we were awarded from our Lord

has leading us to populate and stretch out

the once Garden of Eden.

We have lived many years, some of us

even many decades.

Our mind  remembers past events,

mainly our successes and triumphs,

what always we share with friends,

with genuine a pleasure.

But there are secret remembrances,

some days or hours, yet minutes,

immeasurable joy and contentment,

heavily guarded in our hearts, hidden

from avid and suspicious human eyes.

There is always a balance in life,

between the heavens and earth,

God and humans,

the sacred and profane.

Many times by such hit-and-miss borders,

designed through the seen and the unseen,

we cannot discover the source

of our happiness and misfortunes,

our joy and sorrows.

Always unable to manage life’s seasons,

we enjoy some halcyon ones blended

with others so disturbing.

There are tragedies on the ground floor,

made by incautious people, not prevented

by incautious guardian angels,

being healed by the Almighty, many times

by our own human brothers, some of them

the most unthinkable ones.

We follow fighting everyday vicissitudes,

joining hands with all of our friends,

the visible and the hidden ones,

any of them we must ever dismiss.

Published in Young Ravens Literary Review, issue 6, Summer 2017 issue.

http://www.youngravensliteraryreview.org

There are still marks on the ground

where I have kneeled and cried in despair.

The tears I have poured in it had been exhaled

and were lost forever.

My screams startled the birds that took,

around the skies, news of dread and fear,

also entirely lost.

However, the laughter once I launched,

also recorded by the birds,

so gladly had been welcomed that echoes

by this very day.

There were also some triumph yells

and some love whispers, which, along

all the rest have been made worthwhile

a life of so unnoticed this human’s soul.