Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 28, 2018

ASHES~by Renáta Császár





in the green cave of my secret garden
swinging among the branches
I let myself drift away with pictures of bridges
exploded with their burden and the sight
of the ashes as snowflakes falling

ashes and snowflakes of this late spring
thinking of worlds that cannot be rebuilt
asking the apple tree and the blackbird sipping dew
to tell me the way to straighten the view
and regain some trust

harking to the bird’s whisper
grasping the flashing moments of happiness
hung on the tree
I melt into colours

take the brush
the bird says
it’s yours
nobody can take it

singing on the branches
vibrating in creation
slowly you’ll get it on paper

just draw lines
and splash your heart into the paint

paint your water lilies every day
so as to be happy

and your portrait
with the apple tree
and the blackbird
will get its outlines
on the blue canvas
of the sky

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