Talking to the Lord

Maybe because I prefer to be his pupil forever,

sometimes I don’t find myself having thoughts of my own

nor do I adventure to live in a new world,

different of this one you have always given us.

This is a world that enchants and leaves us comfortable,

and, with exceptions we always deplore,  

once we follow what we were taught,

we have had happy times,

bright dawns and superb afternoons.

Not that we are tired, dissatisfied or incredulous,

with the roadmap you have given us since long ago.  

Would it be ill-advised to ask you to touch the hearts

and minds of some of our fellow ones, those adverse

to the good coexistence and human fraternity?

Those who seem to take pleasure in transgressing

and circumventing the laws you and we have enacted?

You know they are always postponing and making unfeasible

the path we have tried to follow, which will lead us, one day,

to the land you promised, where flow abundantly honey

and milk, and evil never finds shelter.

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

Recurring Dreams, left along the Way

We have passed through stumbles, pitfalls

and spells, almost daily,

which remain in the past, some of them

even into oblivion.

But really, we still do not know from where

and how, in its due time,

we have achieved strength to overcome

and to go ahead.

We know, or at least, believe,

that in our own power this could not be accomplished

without the contribution of a supernatural 

and transcendent Power

that we are not able to understand or qualify.

We got used to attributing these experiences  

to luck or fortuity, or even some

supposed but unknown merit of our own 

that we cannot firmly expect to continue.

This is the fate of us humans, fragile beings

who live in faith and hope of the expected miracle

which will lead us to the redemption of our race:

     The discovery of that once promised land,

      where milk and honey flow in abundance

      and evil never finds shelter.  

(Published in West Ward Quarterly, Fall 2024 issue)

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

We are All Fiction

We are jealous of our lives, our desires,

and accomplishments, always gilding and beautifying 

our performance, in order to become well seen,

well referenced, in our journey through this world.

Being careful, we act to reserve at least one page

in the book to be written of the history

of the time we have lived.

We strive, we sacrifice, to set the tone

of a certain and plausible reality, that could impact

on some we choose to love, among those  

in the inevitable transmutations of our daily lives.  

Let us be aware, however, that our world

in truth is not as real as it appears.

We have been, each one of us, acting our fiction,

that we have chosen since we became a being.

As one philosopher once wrote, this world

nothing more has been but our Creator’s dream,    

where He sowed us as His creatures, whom,

in truth, has never ceased to love.

Let us strive, who knows, with a superhuman force,

to rise beyond the dream, arriving, at least

a little closer to one Reality, which we dare to perceive,

but never able to grasp with our own hands.

Published in West Ward Quarterly, Winter 2024

http://www.wwquarterly.com

Published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, March 10 2024

http://www.lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com

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

Days of Fury

Yesterday a friend of mine was praising a local psychologist.

She is excellent, the best in her profession, he said.

Do you believe that a mother died and her husband,

aware of the approaching doom, had entrusted

such psychologist to prepare their dear daughter

for the terrible episode in question.

He did so because he knew the extreme

and unique sensitivity of the girl

he and his wife loved so much.

Then, it was noted that, at the funeral

that one day took place, the girl did so well,

receiving the guests, even smiling,

just as she was at a party.

When my family and I come to be harassed

for the misfortunes that will surely appear,

may we honor the human condition in which   

we have been endowed since ancient times.  

May we pour out all grief and anguish

we will then pass by.

And, if we feel that way,

let us pull out all our hair.

Published in Fevers of the Mind, July 12, 2023

http://www.feversofthemind.com

Published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, October 9, 2023

http://www.lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com