I come from far away, from a land you do not know,

where there was no uncertainty or doubt,

the windsocks at the airports only marked

good winds, never thunderstorms or calamities.

All the flights departed at the right times,

with all destinations assured,

as well as the marriages and lives

of each one of its inhabitants.

Winds, rain and snow had their proper seasons,

did not extrapolate and cohabited naturally

and amicably with humans.

Even tragedies and accidents, so few ones,

have their correct proportions and partners,

accepted and shared by mutual agreement.

Really, a perfect midsummer night’s dream.

Nowadays, I am an outcast from my homeland,

and I know the path to my return is blocked.

I fear I will live with you for a long time yet.

I must write a book, if do not have time,

some poems, perhaps, telling my stories,

happiness, even magic, which I left behind.

 

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

 

 

I have children that I have generated

on happy and joyful days,

easy laughs, affectionate toasts,

love whispers,

tight hugs and endless kisses.

But I love more the ones generated

on unexpected and improvised feelings,

without flaunt or adornment,

no parties or songs,

just by sudden enchantment of beauty.

Yet I love even more those created

on that ordinary, dark and quiet day,

without desire, rapture or passion,

by just communing and obeying to

our Creator’s greatest commandment:

“Be fruitful and multiply. Bring forth abundantly

in the earth and multiply in it” – Genesis 9-7.

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

There are countries, states, laws, constitutions,

Bible, Koran, catechisms, versicles.

Multiple versions, different procedures,

corrections and penalties.

As if we, humans, because having spread ourselves

around our entire world, were diverse,

dissimilar, incompatible beings.

The truth, so little faced and assumed,

and indoctrinated with so little faith,

is that we came destined to keep alive

the flame of mutual and supportive love,

free from color, race, religion walls and borders.

We have had intelligence and culture to, unluckily,

only improve our mismatches and idiosyncrasies.

The longer we stay on this strange route,

we will be farther from the promised land,

that Canaan where milk and honey flow,

and evil has no place and hides,

defeated, confused and humiliated.

 

Published in Burningword Literary Journal, issue 93, January 2020

http://www.burningword.com

 

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

 

 

 

When night comes and sleep does not appear,

I ride through unsuspected worlds,

have memories even from days I did not live,

by sure dreams I did not realize.

The yearning is loose; I have to fill the void,

so that I arrive in full to another day waiting for me,

new challenges, new fights.

The new day will be powerful and pugnacious,

unlike me, one day older and not being able to hide

on the face and soul, the marks of misfortune and sorrow,

unrequited loves, dislikes and mismatches.

I will show that I did not renounce the human inheritance,

and, along with dear fellow ones I lived, loved and suffered,

having watered the road even with sweat and tears.

Always sure that we will reach, at the end of the journey,

the promised land, and, unlike Abraham,

who just had a glimpse, we will took secure possession, and,

dancing and partying, that day, we will throw to the skies,

sound and honest a laughter.

 

Published in Young Ravens Literary Review, issue 11, Winter 2019.

http://www.youngravensliteraryreview.org

 

 

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

The emotion that lies at the heart,

not shown in gestures and words,

cannot be measured or felt,

but for myself.

The tears of sadness and despair,

even those of rejoicing and pleasure,

salty and hot ones,

have leavened the soil where I live,

bringing forth flowers, fruits, children.

Have nourished and ennobled my spirit,

paying the toll I owe to the lord of the fief.

I am sure they are leading me to Canaan,

the promised land where evil finds no shelter

and milk and honey flow abundantly.

Where the woman I desire is waiting for me,

at the door of my house, longing and needy,

wife and lover.

They do not know that I am in a hurry.

A hurry to love this world even more,

with all people destiny has given to me,

fellow travelers in the common journey.

A hurry to instill and teach my children

the art of goodwill and mutual respect,

pillars that bring us closer to the Creator.

A hurry to fight the good fight, wielding

my sword, my mind and my will

against hopeless and unfaithful brothers,

acolytes of those fallen angels who envy,

hate and despise happiness, love and

the common good.

A hurry that before the end of my days,

may I help us to be closer to the promised land,

where milk and honey flow and evil ever hides,

defeated, disoriented, humiliated.

 

Published in Poetry Poetics Pleasure, September 2019

http://www.poetrypoeticspleasureezine.wordpress.com

 

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

I cry 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 the yesterday’s bread passing from hand to hand;

for the security of the politicians on the comings 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 have no feelings

and are not intimidated.

But I hope to have strength until my last day,

to pierce the veil that seeks to cover evil,

lifting up my sword in the Lord’s army,

always angry against injustice and oppression.

It is my faith that this will be

sacred and ultimate my soul’s redemption.