on a dying friend:

death of a girl

(18.04.2017, 00.16 am)

so young, so full

with energy,

all one cry for help

she couldn’t ask.

all bent on destruction

to flee a world

in which she saw

no home for her soul.

all one protest

against the slow

death in prison,

the way of adults.

all one warm heart

and nearness without

and with words,

open and wounded.

all one ecstasy of

suffering  and joy,

never complaining,

growing towards death

by a needle, by a needle.

worse than needles in her

deep  sweet child soul,

wounds and raw rage,

she run towards

escape, now dying,

bleeding, soon

reaching the other side

and what Goethe said,

filled with the East,

digging in his nose

filled with Goethe,

what kind of God to

only push from outside

to whirl the universe

circling around one finger,

she and i, we didn’t believe.

but her nightmares won

over the vision of children

who are born with future.

each one lost so young

is another loss of hope,

a black finger

swearing at our sky

and burning a hole

in our mind,

in our faith,

in our life.

i wish her peace, to reach peace and a long kind sleep


Rumi:
"You sit here for days saying, This is strange business. You're the strange business.
 You have the energy of the sun in you, but you keep knotting it up at the base of your spine. 
You're some weird kind of gold that wants to stay melted in the furnace, 
so you won't have to become coins."