Poetic Movements

The past breathes its essence through me, its noise a music to the ears; the eyes are closing. My home is the wind, the spirits as they move to engage with a reality. A place in the quietness of the Universe where I find my presence to be lost yet again;   this is my home. Alike a swing it flies back and forth rhythmically. In the shadow of the pine I am closing my eyes, for it's merely me. July 24 th 2016, Loutropyrgos, Athens. Photo taken from the swing; same date & place. 

What we‘ve lost, we found once and maybe we find again. My soul is looking for you, your light and fire. I am trying to balance the uncertainty, to fight and stabilise it. Lonely hours I am wasting gazing at the people, unable to be their solution or at least their point of hope. My soul is mourning far from you, and your light though distant is blinding so perhaps I resolve to darkness. Perhaps I am no longer a bearer but a burden.    But my soul is still looking for you… July 20 th 2016, Athens.  

We are departing, but we are going nowhere. At the sundown - or even after - couples, a hand in another, are strolling towards the endless sea, their kids running carelessly behind or even in the front. Because what they miss is the view; a promise of tomorrow, a nightmare from yesterday. This is their journey and all I 've learnt is the importance of their little things; a childlike kiss to the cheek, a burning set of eyes. Transparent existences, them and we; I watch us departing all the time, but we are here. Every next morning waking up abandoned by ships, abandoned travellers exploring in their tents. Hand in hand, silence maintained, and peace resolves in stillness. But they will go; we all will pack our hearts in our bags and one day continue the journey determined to finish it or not. A journey not really ours, but som

September 2013 They walked up the hill to the house. They held each other lightly as a final goodbye. They had said it already many times; there was no more courage to embrace the moment. No one was aware that it would be the last such one they would have. A someone opened the door, and he vanished behind it.  January 2014 Three in the morning with no sleep. The city had saved its best for today; sunny, loud, vibrant! They said no goodbyes, but set a date for another time in another city. She realised she was full; full of people, of things, of experiences, of memories, of reasons to come back. A few hours later, the plane took off and the city was now an air view from outside the window…    September 2015 There could be no goodbyes with him, no honesty. The unwelcome saviour, delayed and pre-occupied with other affairs, had no tolerance for emotions. Either people were running after him or they were simply fading; usually.  She would have loved to be the exception, but

I write being at the moment unsure, numb and bitter. I write being emotionally implicated, but trying to take a step back and consider the situation.  I have heard tremendous things since yesterday, which I am not going to recycle here. But I believe most of them, because they were told by people who have also dedicated a, bigger or smaller, part of their life to being there daily, contributing, helping. They are my people; and I am theirs. Refugees came today, the 14th of July, for breakfast as always. Less people though. And it was quite, too quite for what we are used to. My little girl ran to me for a hug, insecurity and confusion shadowing her eyes. The kids' inexhaustible energy that we usually find hard to deal with was not there today. We finished the distribution fast at E1, having nothing to say one to the other.   The Stone Warehouse evicted and locked since yesterday, 13th July 2016.  I walked to the Warehouse, where the distribution was not finished

By Ilaria Bertè Tender drops, matter that you are,  are trickling down, inside my painful happiness. I stand desperately and guilty, grabbed to a handful of words and some deeper gaze, that we shared and kept. Patiently, the beauty comes out from you.  And I am fluctuating  in the sea and time that surrounded us. Drowning in childish feelings being not ready to leave yet. Allow me to be ridiculous and smile back, because I am nothing while I am facing so much. Allow me to be, just now, and do not care about the rest, the past, and all that is not my best. Be a tree be a ship be the wind. Be the dance of waves, be all the movements  that flow your person. It is life to meet you. July 9th 2016, train from Bergamo to Milano.

Light of my day, self reborn in dystopia,  how your smile remains, though run down, persistent?  Bright moon of the night, how can you avoid the eclipse  and look so radiant under these worn lights?  We are always remaining people inside bubbles, little moments we are saving under our colourful masks.  My only child; you would have never thought fear can last so long, you would have never guessed you can surpass it.  I am breathing the silence out and it’s the unknown all I know; all I have forgotten but you.    July 2016, Piraeus.