Deep Essence
Text by Chiara
Image: Sara — “Deep Essence”, ink illustration
What are my roots,
where do they lead,
what name do they have,
if they have a name at all.
Maybe it’s mine, the fault
maybe I lost their language
along the way.
My soul, this fool,
to me you’re unknown.
My essence escapes me,
it slips away,
floating with the ashes of my mind,
even now that I’m writing
I feel removed from this side.
What remains
shily dances in the wind
like autumn leaves,
they fall to the ground,
hoping to sleep
and never to be found.
I try to make a sound,
to rebel against this cruel end
that I’m choosing for myself.
Its burden eats at my will,
day after day,
my body, my spirit, everything is bloody still.
I’m so afraid.
Intuition is gone,
its voice too much silent,
and now I don’t know
on what to rely on.
I have to move on,
I have to move on,
I have to move on
…
I want to live on?
