The vertical tree,
The wooden leaking roof, shelter for horizontal people
And me, above all, in the middle of things,
Not quite ready, but tall.
Faith, I say, is something that is going to happen regardless;
Like the quick passing of this moment,
My voice when I read to you at night,
The slow breathing of the man in times of war.
Faith is not my step but my eye, turned,
My head turned back, cracked open ready to see the world as it is;
A sea of memories which push me towards an open field
With no water supply,
With nothing but hope.
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About Maria Butunoi
Writer and freelance journalist / Years active: 1996-present / Published poetry in: ‘Wienzeile', (Austria), ‘Cronica’, ‘Poesis’, ‘Hyperion’, ‘LiterNet’, ‘Convorbiri literare’ (Romania and Republic of Moldova), ‘Lumina Lina’ and ‘Norii’ (United States), ‘Ozone Friendly’ anthology, (Romania), ‘Putting Pen to Paper’, ‘A Poet’s Echo’ - Forward Poetry and United Press (United Kingdom).
Copyright notice: © Maria Boghian Butunoi, 2007-2012. All Rights Reserved. All works, writing, images, and information found herein are protected under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Any unauthorized reproduction or usage is in direct violation of the law and is strictly prohibited.
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February 22nd, 2012 at 1:57 am
“Faith is not my step, but my eye, turned…” Love this line. Nice post!
February 22nd, 2012 at 1:32 pm
Thank you for your comment. Enjoy the day.