BELLS AND CANDLES
by Sorana Lucia Salomeia

Flying through the garden of the roses and the silver poplars, I can see a bird. It is the bird of sorrow and I hear its song. It is singing of the long - lost land of far away, and my heart starts trembling.
High above the garden of the silver roses I can see a bird making for the sky. I must leave the garden, I must go away, but its song still echoes in my heart...
There is a wave of quiet anger in the streets tonight and the sense of loss and sorrow is mixed with a frightening feeling of helplessness.
As a newborn hope was rising, it was cruelly swept away and the gloom of twilight overtook the daylight and the shiny colours of the rainbow, the only bridge to lie over the eternal darkness.
Have mercy, mercy on everyone…
There is a flood of mourning faces in the darkness of the night, a procession in the honour of a fearless ice shudder.
How can anyone believe that there is a place for decent people if the world is meant to suffer time and time again?
Have mercy, this is a trying time and the bell that used to chime was hushed to silence by the dark horror of wars and irritation.
Now that the misdeed is done, we are at a loss, puzzled and dizzy,trembling after having received the vicious blow.
There is a feeling of belonging in the quiet air.
Those who were against him have all vanished out of sight and they will remember how we used to tear apart their poor defense with the quiet wisdom of the language of the heart.
There is a sense of deprivation looming all around us, for the candle burned out just as we could glimpse a light.
How we hungered for a vision and he gave us all a dream, a hope, in a time of pride and
passion that we cannot redeem.
If we only had the time to stop and start all over, if there only was a way to build a brand new world… Is it really far too late to try and think about it and then to make up for all those fatal mistakes?
If only we had time to see we are all just people in a cold and lonely world, or have we all gone blind?
There is so much love to give and get in return; if only we gave ourselves a little time.
Look at all the children playing games in the sunlight. Why did we forget that way of having fun?
If we lived a century, if we cried a million tears, would we listen to the voice that no one hears?
If we only had the time …
There is an old man throwing breadcrumbs to the sparrows, sitting on a bench beside the children's playground and he nods and smiles as he hears the careless laughter.
As I sit and watch the old man and the children, there is a cold and lonely feeling
running through me. It is late in the day, and the air is getting chilly and it is time to go home; soon the shadows will be falling.
And I will spend another night waiting for the bright light of the morning, like so many nights before... I am amazed at all the words, soaring like the flight of the birds in the sky, but the message they can bring is just the flutter of a wing making ripples in the ocean.
Down the slide she comes, my younger sister, giggles ringing in my ears like clear blue water and her hand is so warm, so confident and sandy…
Lately, I have had a constant need to see them happy.
Something breaks whenever one of them is crying...
Looking back as we leave, I can see the bench is empty, but the sparrows still remain there and, as ever, keep on searching.


Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania