Whiskey

The liquid forms a warm feeling in my stomach,

of not turning back to my old crashed life..

I look at the old yellow train tickets,

forgotten and laying on the old mahogany table where they always stayed..

This place looks like my new home,

thousand postcards of peace on the floor,

sweet scent of the roses..

My heart longs for this joy..

—

Wooden smell lingering in my soul,

it’s the warmth of the ember that leaves my coldness away…

—

Pulling at my long sleeves of my winter sweater,

the warmth seems to get closer and closer to me.

My lips are tasting the the sweet liquid,

the flavor of flowers and unending dreams of staying in this world full of love..

—

I never want to get back to home…

Thirst

My throat dried the years,

the years with the water..

—

And now I see  the days who wound themselves with the drought and the pain..

—

My body,

gasping for the cool fluidity,

my hands are parted from the purification..

My broken lips,

initiation of this dry world..

—

My throat cracks itself again,

thinking of the forgotten flood of the pure water.

Waiting for a taste of thousand lips,

hands, and thousand bodies,

swirling in the silence,

just like the names we cry for help,

–they shatter in the rest..

—

I pray for a purification of the water,

thirst quencher in our hearts again…

His healing blood

Walking  on the beach,

the wind’s blowing in my hair.

The seawater’s drowning my feet..

 

When I look at the dawn,

It changes forever in pain…

 

When my deep wounds burn in my skin,

it feels like my feet walks through glass..

—  This is pain.

 

My throat is dry,

I thirst for a new life..

God’s blood over floods my tongue,

the tongue who would still cling to the pain,

but now it clings to His blood..

 

Where was I,

when the pain ached my body?

Who was I,

when Jesus’   wine healed my heart?

 

 

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