10 / WAITING

#10 / WAITING
maja osojnik, 2014

as the tenderness of a pleasant intoxicated state fades out
there’s this muted sadness left behind.

one last move and then i freeze,
i freeze to pose a pause;
my still frame of refusal,
this sadness is my cause.
today it feels like walking on broken glass
and it hurts…

my body hurts, when you march through me,
a blindfolded army on demand,
hunters for colours, hopes and dreams, you force to flee,
with the shameful mission to destroy, who you are,
who taught you, not to be                  human?

/ humans teach hate /

my body hurts, when you march through me,
a parade from station „ignorant“ to station „failed“.
How can you demand my total trust and send me
on a shopping spree,
while i watch you steal in broad daylight and undisguised
with greedy fingers, tacky smiles you trick your crowds,
to call you gods while buying likes in cyber space,
you give your orders to obey and not to ask.

Is this our way of giving up?
to see the truth – see nothing?

nothing
nothing
nothing
nothing
nothing
nothing
nothing moves…

waiting for the sun to fall
waiting for the sun to fall
waiting for the sun to fall

waiting for the sun to fall
waiting for the sky to fall

my hands will find peace.
then you’ll ask me which future shall we choose?
and which beginning?
with rain in our hair and extended breath
without haste for days on our own
and we’ll dance without pain on that broken glass.