The daughter's song & The Death of Philophobia

The daughter's song 

The bittersweetness of a spring afternoon

My weighty longing like a golden nest inside my neck

This song is made of tears and the nostalgia

Of a cigarette you refuse to smoke

Everything will become sand very soon

The hourglass' chest gets emptier and emptier

With every bird that flies over the land I will leave

I will leave I will leave I will leave

My childhood home, my country, this body I call mine

I will leave my body for good - not only briefly, when kisses occur

Or prayers flow like the hot blood

Of a bird, of a golden fish, of a teenager in love 

Please keep holding my hand

And receive my quiet gratitude 

For making me Your daughter. 

April 21, 2021, Transylvania

The Death of Philophobia

Light filled my lungs

The cage inside the bird was burnt to ashes

From those ashes - a new song was born

This song, in fact, was born

The consequences of the flame were felt before the actual fire

From those ashes - a diamond was made

My hands were there to help

The diamond inside the bird kept spinning and spinning

At this pace

As part of this dance

The bird's wings took her higher and higher

It was cold and beautiful

Her homeland now resembled a harmless board game

Her wings swam and swam in the fresh autumn air

The diamond kept spinning

The diamond kept spinning

September 21, 2021, Transylvania


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