like the fragile petal that feels

the wet raindrop only in the present

like a naive newborn

who opens his eyes with the first beams of light

like the childish stubbornness of hair

that can’t stop growing, even if in disarray

I want to give back to the word its lightness

isolate any hardness from its use

take out, from the word, the weight of weariness

dissolve the plethora of feelings already employed

[faith, believe, redeem…]

[think, feel, reflect…]

words are beyond what we assign

words fall short of what we assign

‍

I still have a sweet hope:

to be able to pronounce

“love”

as a child who

, without shame,

discovers she loves.

‍