I got an old book
and spent some time
with it in my arms, cuddling it
making love with it.

Spellbound by that cover
again, my precipices and ideals awaken:
nothing was embalmed,
life was not a stupid expectation of
decoration, recognition, whatever.
That dog-eared page made my mind still
and I could remember who I was and
how frightening it was to be myself now.
For some time a silent disheveled middle aged woman
searched for all those things she needed once more:
she was the only one who could rework the puzzle.

She started to read the poem shyly.
Words were shivering, getting bigger,
engulfing me.
The universe had written a story which
I was compelled to live. The universe.
Calculating the distance that separated the woman
from the girl, I drank the poem, going back through
adulthood to flowers, seeds and idealism.

Unbuttoning my soul and in foetal position I was
in this heroic encounter.

How briefly everything exists!

Karla Bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011


  1. Beautiful Flower!!! This is how I feel when I read my sacred writings! tc

  2. Hi Karla,
    I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you lately - I haven't been blogging a lot lately.
    I just wanted to tell you that you have received an award from me. If you would like to see it, just visit my blog
    Dtwilight x