Offener Kunst Raum
Imagine me, being twenty-one, witnessing the first time the majesty of birth
She was a godess, deeply connected with her sexuality
I – was not needed.
Baby came out, just with her and papa
she laid down, surrounded by us three servants.
her vulva was red, bloody, swollen
Showing the deepnes that she reaches.
She…
built herself a cave out of cloths
With the laundry rope and her pink flower hair clips to hold
that she bought in a french tourist shop near the sea
with the money she earned in cents
by selling her paintings in the street.
Discernment.
Integrity.
Solitude.
Ein Ich mit Grenzen.
Incredible beauty.
Upright
but not uptight
shes soft in her face
Grace.
It is nice to root
I can talk everyday to the apples
and say: wow, how you grew!
How you became a mother
Is written in the trees
Of the north.
How the young warrior wanderer
Laid down her stick on the earth
To hold a little ones hand.
I hear your voice
Sing from beneath
I sit at the window
Breathe
Lavender, rosemary, blueberry, thyme
Your voice
My Heart
Intertwined.
I´ve experienced the pain of analphabets
I´ve experienced the pain of school
as different as two things can be
but both got this burning sense in my chest.
Looking out of the window into
the pale blue sky
I see a bird flying by,
telling me she’s heading
to a faraway place
making the last turns around the
well-known face,
watching it’s flowers and towers
from above.
And I ask her if I can fly there too,
so I can finally let go of you.
