Lantias, Elena Ledda, 2018

When you look at the street on the doorsill
and you want to talk to me
before I go forward
you tell me “come, soon,
I have something to tell you
and even these walls should not know it;
do you remember my daughter
the one that was supposed to come back
right for Easter Day,
with soft cheeks
silver necklace and red earrings?
She’s got lost and alone, now,
for having fallen in love with
whom I no longer know
reducing her in pieces
in a short time
he did not leave her neither heart nor senses
Why are they still telling me
I won’t see her coming back?
Is there no more sentiment for a mother?
And who said
that sin leads to contrition?
Or perhaps, was,
this beautiful creature,
wrong, coming to light?
I asked to God too
in prayer
if Nature is the only one to blame
the same Nature that has badly shared,
growing its children,
the measure of sense and goodness
and has reserved without mercy
to the most, the evil
Angst is taking a lot out of me
and it never stops
by not having her at home with my affection,
only my heart knows
the so much hope it needed
to join her where they say she is gone;
a shadow stopped beside me
tonight in the darkness,
and lengthy, looked at me in silence
Wait for me, Mom, I’m coming
I’ve dreamed of her
happy as never before
with a moon painted on her chest
“Death cannot come in my life
because prevented by seven love keys,
I want to see you behind the window
beloved mom
perfumed and jeweled,
well dressed and combed
ready to embrace me”
And I got dressed
silk handkerchief
blue blouse that I never worn
when she arrives
we will laugh a lot
about how small and lean I became
to hold me entirely tight
I can’t wait to see
my daughter’s gentle face.
And don’t go away without stopping
you, who are exactly like her.

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