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And you hid in your hole, wrapped in a warm sweater tied with caring hands and froze:
From injustice and surprise;
From new yourself, so sensitive and frail;
From the hard world, which seems to be so really indifferent, when it is heavy on the soul;
From the closed way: it just glowed with neon sparks and disappeared in a second like a mirage in the desert;
From fatigue and loneliness, treacherously got into the soul;
From tears that got lost close to the heart and beat in its rhythm, but do not rise higher, blocking their movement close to the throat;
From understanding of the unsteadiness and illusiveness of happening around.
Almost not breathing …
Not allowing anyone to your heart …
Out of habit picking up yourself by pieces, in armour …
Switched off the world …
Cut off the network …
And I mentally stroke you, like a little girl, over blond hair saying “the plait to grow up to the waist, don’t be afraid of anyone …”.
I know you’ll feel my warmth, even through an old sweater tied with caring hands.
Not at all alone …
New stage and time to listen to yourself:
Living and feeling;
Gentle and frail.
To look carefully into your heart:
To open the floodgates for stagnant tears;
To release, not to save them inside, not to build salt caves – they won’t hide from the cold.
It’s possible to look around and open up your soul to what truly warms, goes on the way towards you.
Every spring the trees shake off the darkness of the cold and gently release tender leaves for sunlight and heat, for future fruits …
And every autumn they prepare for the winter cold, freeze, wait, save their strength until the next spring.
Here and you froze …
Just for a while …
For a little break and search for the most important thing that will warm in the most severe frost.
I’m singing a lullaby to your little girl.
And you are smiling hearing the magical sounds of your heart, at first timidly, and then openly, as if shaking off all that is alluvial and alien.
To a new sun!
To a fresh wind!
To new yourself!