Iryna Sorokovska, Ukraine

(1)

The cage is all full of smell

Which one?

It is hard to tell.

And yet when touching it,

You are feeling it getting in!

It goes into skin so deep

Are you just some weird creep?

And yet who has ever said

That you cannot TOUCH a smell?

And fingers are grabbing the grid,

The cage starts creaking within.

Yet the skin does not care much,

It enjoys the invisible touch. 

(2)

Grace touching the shoulders,

And flowing back in the spine,

Creating the moment of nectar,

And showing the way that´s not mine.

You see how continuous being,

Emerging from Nothing and Grace,

Creates just a circle of seeing,

And vanishes back into space.

-

Intoxicated broken-open heart

Burning, longing, screaming Joy

Yet so silent in expression,

What a strange confession

(3)

So gentle and so caring

A simple kind word,

And yet - it seems so daring

As if you pulled a sword.

The mind fails you suddenly,

And tricks you in disguise,

Pretending it knows better,

And telling you a lie.

The sadness creeps in silently,

From ages long ago,

It shakes your being violently,

It screams: „It is enough of woe!“

I wish I could tear down

The walls that you create by space

Yet I am just sitting like a clown

And waiting for a touch of Grace.