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#chriswrites #penonpaper #aliveliterature
Somewhere within the space of your breathing, I will wake up and learn to smile, I'll finally break free from the ashes, And leave old sorrow for a while. Somewhere inside your hands, once broken, I'll scatter all my scattered ways, On paths once walked, on words unspoken, On craters left by your war days. I'm not a small bird, I bear no crosses, I'm merely bones grown thin and frail, One day you'll learn to hold my losses Through threads of red, like blood, so pale. You're wounded now, and I'm full of fear, You are far away, yet you feel near. I'm covered now in restless shivers, You're chasing down some other river. I'm without shame, you're without conscience, We walk ahead now, hand in hand, Your breathing is my only story, Your eyes are honey on this land. I'm without clothing, without a whisper, Not living once — but standing tall, You rolled away from all betrayal And finally stopped, and ceased to fall. We're without praises, but with a child, Unhealed from bullets, from the wild, By halves, by quarters, torn and slighted, We passed the cuckoos, unrequited.
The tenderness of autumn is engraved On my shoulders, in my hearth's low flame, Twenty-nine years, and still not saved From winters stepping in unnamed. Twenty-nine times I was denied, Twenty-nine times I stayed alive, Too often betrayed, too often known too well, Too soon, too old, too young to thrive. Too much ashamed before the universe, Too many tears the world has heard, Too soon he stopped his gentle touches On my cold face, without a word. I stopped loving small delights, I don't light candles anymore at nights, I hid myself among my own thin shoots, Away from eyes that gave no fruits. Too weakly tied, the threads between A father's love and what love means, Unrocked to sleep, no melody, No warm embrace, no company. Too deeply did I dig for truth, Too heavy was the weight, uncouth, An emptiness that bloomed with treason, Where warmth will never find a season. Unchildish songs I had to sing, Translated into everything: Unfed, unplanned, and unexpected, Turned into trash, and disconnected. Twenty-nine years still waiting here, Twenty-nine festive, frozen years, Twenty-nine hopes that fade to grey, Beyond the empty, beyond the strange.
I wasn't waiting, and yet still... Today my windows opened wide, My fingers in the glass, crystal chilled, Your shoulder's scars still deep inside. I didn't call for you, I swear, I didn't roar like rolling thunder, With sweet and calming rum somewhere I drank away my damp, wet wonder. I didn't know if you're alive, Or strength itself, or roots below, I sprouted up like nettle's spike Into your swift and stormy blue. You'll wet the threshold, then you'll run, You'll touch the scar with blade so light, You'll drink a shot, then turn, sobered, undone, And grieve, bitter, in mid-flight. You are my rain, my flood, my sweat, A splinter in a cup. A loose thread, met. Like a daisy wilted in the field, Like a cold world, ash-sealed. It's simply windy, simply rain. We hide our feet in wool again. Just cracks that never seem to mend. Just time to throw a coat on, friend.
I'll breathe the morning, taste the cookie sweet, I'll kiss your hair so soft and light, Everything happy now feels complete Without a single badge in sight. My smile already lives in you, Brown eyes ablaze, your father's flame, We're teaching you to fly on through In love, not sorrow, not in shame. My little girl, just look up there, Pink clouds are drifting through the sky, On earth the violets bloom with care, And storks have taken off to fly. My little sun, please wait a while, Just let me rock you slow to rest, One more lullaby, one more smile, Don't let go of my hand just yet. I only want to keep your scent, To memorize it, hold it near, Sew it in a pocket, softly bent, Not lose it in this crowded year. I only want to reach the stars, To light the road that you will take, And come to help you, near or far, When every step feels hard to make. My frosty nose, my rosy cheek, My little feather in the air, The color of joy that I still seek, And grown-up thoughts you'll learn to bear.
Kiss me into love again, Hold me gently, ease my pain, Pity these worn temples of mine, Set my cooling blood alight, entwine. I don't cry, the water's fled, Hardened now like stone instead, Rising underneath your beam, Shining young — a golden gleam. Hold me close up to the stars, Where desire runs, where nothing bars, Pausing on thin blades so keen, Weaving flowers where hair has been. Dress me now, undress me too, Feel my worn lips, made anew, Notice them in every place, Hide them safe within your embrace. Open up the old window wide, Let the birds and wind inside, Bring the flowers home again, Pour the good wine, ease my pain. Look me in the eyes, sing, stay still, Rest your head upon my knee, Dream of daughters, dream of sons, Learn to touch the strings with me. Hold me now within your arms, Warm my cold, and share your charm, Turn on passion, silver sound, Watch me while I sleep, spellbound. Are you brave, or will you flee? Do you hide, or hide from me? Do you heal me, or destroy? Kiss me into love, my joy...
I can feel the taste of war, I can feel it on my skin, Deadly, hostile notes are playing, Fighting evil, brave within. I don't hold a sword in hand, I hold only my own child! Why then aim at me, you monster? Blood upon your shoulder, wild... Go on, shoot into my shadow! Go on, kill my every plan! We will win! We'll heal the wounded! Leave our freedom to the clan!
My house is covered now in ashes, It falls asleep to booming sound, The wind howls out a war-time opera Reminding me it's still around. My house is grey, it doesn't smile now, It doesn't greet its guests with fire, It trembles at the burning torture, And weeps for children's lost desire. Inside my house, no bread is rising, I haven't baked in far too long, Inside my house, it's empty, aching, Just prickly traces linger on. My house is being crucified now By steel, by sword, and by the cross, My house is breaking, bone by bone now, Yet from its land, it won't be lost. I will return to you with starlight, I'll gather every shard of glass, And with these wounded hands I'll sow you Flowers and freedom, thick as grass.
Beside my home the whole world tears apart, An abyss of ashes, fear, and blackened sky... If only there was peace — that's all I ask, Just to say "hello" to family, and not goodbye. How did this world misplace what mattered most? How were our children robbed of joy and youth? How do our grandmothers now greet old age — In basements, in the cold, beneath the truth? How did life hide itself in cellars, in the metro's dark? What will remain with me, and what will they still take? My language, home, those May mornings on the field? His eyes — so vast, so quick, like chocolate for my sake? Will they, beneath the earth, bloom black as poppy seed? I wish I never knew this word — this word called war! I'd rather search for spring than shelter for the night. Not fear the thunder, but whisper "goodnight" once more. And not to know why the whole country's grieving so... I don't have everything, but truly, I have plenty: I'm daughter, mother, wife — I'm simply still alive. I'm holding onto faith, to words both kind and honest. And I believe — with them, I still can hold the whole world tight.
How to stay warm beneath the cold, How not to fight the waves that hold And drag me down with binding force? How to heal thoughts off their course, How to see where I should go, Counting miles I do not know? How to love in shades of red, Smile at those I've always known, And not turn grey before my children grown? How to find the strength somehow, How to keep from clipping wings, And breathe in deep, through everything? How to live through this sunrise, While the sun boils in the skies And ashes cover weary feet? How to heal this scar complete, How to walk into a shrine, To hold all mothers, yours and mine... And not forget the road that's mine...
Give me flowers, white as snow. Coffee's cold, the snow let go. I don't know which way to run, So that you will catch me, hon. Weave me periwinkle blue, Don't run away from words I threw, Don't be shy of pages, mine, Wait for all my ships to align. Kiss me gently at the dawn, Heal the place where pain still yawns, Dress me in embroidered thread, So I can live in peace instead. Give me victory, hold it near, I'll bring good wine, don't you fear, I'll calm the worry that you keep, And open the old window deep. I'm slowly learning how to live, I'm sick, I count the days I give... Give me flowers, white as snow, Winter's done, but not our woe...
There's light beside me, and there's you. We keep on walking, me and you. I dance, and you smile back at me. Your arms became my favorite plaid. Your kisses turned into my sweet. With you, I finally felt glad. How far you flew, up in the blue, How brightly rang the notes so true, You played upon my loneliness like strings. And how the stars entwined that night, And how we rose up, hand in hand tight, And bloomed in warmer, brighter things. How you play songs! How the lights ignite! How you warm me from the cold at night... Like in an old film, long ago, Somewhere so far, in soft glow, I was kissed once by an angel's wing.
To wait until the fields turn bright with dawn, Until I smile back at my sky again, Until the tired earth, worn out and drawn, Breathes out and shakes its willow free from pain. To wait. To pray. To not believe the dark. To hold my children close through every night. To find the meaning in a single spark, To cry my tired eyes out, cry them right. To wait. For friends, for brothers to come home, For those young men from battles black as coal... For light eternal. And for death's own throne. And for a grandmother's quiet, whispered soul. To wait. Until the sunflower finds its stem, Until the poppies bloom out bright in June, Until no fear can touch a weary head, Until the tunnels glow with warmth so soon. To wait. As long as there is strength, and you, As long as war has not yet had its fill! To wait! To love! To dream the whole night through! And weave a crane's nest, patient, standing still.
This wind is carrying alarm now, No longer showing me the way, No purpose left, no wings to soar now, No cursed green sails left to sway. Just sky. And just your songs remain. In a world drowning deep in pain, That's sinking low with heavy drink, I have no more, I'm at the brink, And what was — I delete it whole, I only breathe. That is my role. In a city where they spread rumors fast, In a city built on lies at last, Where black betrayal strikes and stings, I still remain the truthful thing. By faith. By meaning. By my dreams. By fresh, clean air. By rainstorm streams. A jacket on my shoulders, worn, A flower on the swords I've borne For you. Rain falls with no desire at all. The trees turn rusty — that's the fall. My footprints on the streets remain, And where the lanterns burn again, I — am lighting a flame.
Just a smile, just eyes. And autumn in my hands. Warm sweaters, boots, and dust in corners stands. It's simply grown both lighter and more hard. I can't stop moving. I'm afraid of grey. I'm shedding off the heavy guilt today. I've grown a little smaller than I was. Just days keep flipping on my calendar, People get lost somewhere in clouds, so far, Only in memory does Chanel remain. Freckles across my nose. And autumn in my hands. Strong tea. Love and victory in my plans, And a Ukrainian, unconquered smile.
Breaths are running into rainstorms. Cold, but the ice won't ever crack. How much air does it take to live on? And to blow where fire's still black? Breaths are ending far too early. Candles die. The evening falls. Too much damp fog, low and surly, Reaching heaven, death that calls. Breaths remain within the windows, In the palms, cracked from the pain, On the crumpled, cold walls, shadows, Come to sing inside a shrine. Breathing now is barely bearable. It burns. It poisons. Aches with cold. But... keep breathing. Even through the ice-wall. A breath can melt the ice, take hold.
And nights can also be warm nights, And people can be plaid throws too, And eyes can drown in honeyed light, A smile worth a hundred volts, so true. Sometimes she's silk laid on the pillow, Sometimes she's thunder, trembling in his laugh, His words: "You're beautiful, like sorrow" — And goosebumps rise along her path. He sees her in a rosy color, He hides himself in steel and stone, He plans his life week after week now, Then rips the roof clean off his home... He'll fire a shot, then leave with morning's dew. And she — will bloom, apricots on her skin, And step, barefoot, into the avenue, Where no one else has ever been.
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