who will i be

de-void of joy,
defunct in life-
do i try
to die?

half-consciously destroy
my dreams and me,
or can i see
green sprouts in this tree?

who will i be,
why am i,
can i love?
or is my liberty

the master of my thought?
which path to choose,
not to win or to lose,
but a way to light,

a road to be kind,
to meet and to let go,
i am so slow
and i am so fast

i can hardly see
this you or this me,
i am a bird in flight
and in fear of cats and me

i cannot touch the branches,
will be blind, will hurt
my wings in the mirror,
i can but look for signs

in the wide and open sky.
the world is a wound
and blood flows all around,
spilled on the soil, the ground

can we be...free?
now i will go,
i will breathe,
i am here