Dedicated to Rainer Maria Rilke – the source of my inspiration.
Who will hear us when we scream to the invisible?
Angels are too majestic to shudder at our pain,
And we are too ephemeral to remain silent forever.
We are those who fall inward upon ourselves,
Like stars that no longer wish to shine.
Yet, with every tremor of the heart,
We touch the threshold of another reality.
There, where names become prayers,
And the breath itself is an acknowledgment
That we are not alone in this infinity.
Oh, Divine, trembling in the air
Like a memory of the warmth of a hand not yet created…
Why do you come only in the silence?
Only when we are already broken and bare,
Having fallen out of a language that can no longer hold the light?
We were created to look –
Even if into a void that gives no answer.
But is not a gaze turned toward the abyss
A prayer in and of itself?
Is this not what you wanted from us:
To be wounds that glow from within?
You are not the answer. You are the tension of the question.
You are not peace. You are the anxiety that waits
For our courage: to be mortal,
Yet feel the boundless within us.
Like a short night,
That still manages to remember the stars.