IOANA IERONIM

Winter Solstice


suddenly awake in the dead of night
a force of light and a force of utter darkness
shapeless
there
having absorbed all shape

me, an immaterial boat
foam on waves gliding towards you
following
that distinct call
and she
then suddenly
she blazing in the mirror
she, my friend from even before memory
who at this very moment is listening to the call
that has touched every living second in her
every cell of her body

she who lingers on the threshold
while those she has nurtured
have been wading through grief
from the beautiful autumn equinox and harvest
until this time that has transmuted her
into pain pure and absolute

they surround her, they pace their efforts
around their young ones
around the many little things that have to be done
without her,
they slowly drill these steps, their faces balanced on scales
that flicker light and darkness in their subdued eyes:

the ritual of the torch being passed on,
something we once thought most unlikely, even stale
becomes true
and as unavoidable as breathing

a prayer without words
a thin tall flame folded inside,
no words no words there are none in this land
seeds steadily sink into dust
dreaming their dream on the other side of the mirror

tomorrow
days will start growing
 

Liliana Stefan

Ioana Ieronim
 

Winter Solstice

Solstitiu de iarna
treaz deodata in toiul noptii
forta a luminii si o forta a-ntunericului complet
fara forma
acolo
dupa ce a absorbit orice forma

eu, o barca imateriala
fac spume pe valuri lunecand catre tine
urmand
acea chemare limpede
si ea
apoi deodata
ea revarsandu-se in oglinda
ea, prietena mea chiar dinainte sa exist
care exact in aceasta clipa asculta chemarea
ce-a atins fiecare secunda de viata din ea
fiecare fibra a corpului sau

ea care zaboveste-n prag
pe cand cei pe care i-a crescut
cu greu isi fac drum prin tristete
de la frumosul echinox de toamna si recolta
pana acum cand timpul a schimbat-o
in durere pura si absoluta

ei o-ncercuiesc, se concentreaza
pe copiii lor
pe toate lucrurile marunte ce trebuie facute
fara ea,
incet ei pasesc chibzuit si apasat, fetele lor cantarite-n balanta
ce scot licariri de lumina si intuneric in ochii lor supusi:

ritualul predarii tortei mai departe,
ceva ce odata am crezut improbabil, chiar perimat
devine adevarat
si la fel de inevitabil ca a respire

rugaciune fara cuvinte
flacara inalta si subtire impaturita inauntru,
nici un cuvant nici un cuvant nu exista nici unul pe acest taram
semintele se-afunda-n praf constant
visandu-si visul de cealalta parte a oglinzii.

maine
zilele vor incepe-a creste.