Son beloved, let no one hurt your flight “The rose of the desert”

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Son beloved, let no one hurt your flight

Death forgets my son, get away from the heat of his sick body, and go away to the fire of the eternal flame. My son is an immortal being; you can never be his mistress or his shadow in the darkness. He’ll only be master of his pure love, of his free love and without sleeplessness.
Without pause, I rest in the lap of his fine and burned arms. Arms warm like the fire of the fire, although you death stalks him incessantly in his fragile dreams. And I rest, and I rest my exhausted body, scorched by the burning rays of my desert. My dry mouth can’t pronounce those names, nor those phrases that encourage my heavy walking…
I feel the white pearls, of hyaline coral, hurt in my sleeping swan neck. They’re marine pearls, bright in abysmal oceans. They’re captivating pearls of sweet and tender hopes. They’re pearls given away, in offerings, by mermaids dressed in white djellabas. Beautiful mermaids, with their white tunics, dance and dance to the sound of old jungle drums. In the Saharan jungle the shamans invoke their old ancestors. Ancestors incarnated in black hawk spirits…
Red eagles lie in wait in the ancestral people of my beloved prince. Eagles sail the seas and the African skies, with their wings curled to the celestial roofs velvety of stars. They’re white flags, curled and unfolded in the oceans of your sky and of my burning heaven. Indigo sky, sky blue, full of incendiary stars on hot austral summer nights. I have few strength left, but my heart crying out exclaims a slight sigh of silver: I love you! I love you son, despite your strange feelings, your slow agony in absolute silence! In the early solitude, in the most absolute solitude, I’ll always protect you from my sky of stars asleep, at dawn with the dew of dawn…
You’re my little boy, you’re my sweet dream of dawn in the eternal dawn. Sometimes, I ask myself: Why did you grow up so fast? Why do you try at every moment, to contain your tears and tears of satin velvet? Don’t forget the innocence, nor all that humbly taught you by Mother Earth. I perceive, in that captive innocence as a child, that you’re the sweet intoxicating dream of Morpheus. Your sleeping spirit reposes, lightly, on the fine sand of the beach, while the waves harden against the cliff of your placid dreams. Beloved son… I’m as you imagine me in your child’s mind, in your forbidden dreams. I’m the black lady who silences the voices and laments of the suffering people. I’m a captive princess, wild gazelle in the blue nights of my desert. I’m an indomitable wind, a burning hurricane of Essene poetry. I’m a messenger of poetic odes against the slavery of our people. I’m a revolutionary muse who yearns for the freedom of the Hebrew people… I’m a peregrine falcon in your most captive dreams. I’m a messenger of lost times, from the origin of the universe, from the tree of life…
I know that you felt very lonely in that desert, in the dark and dark nights of the cold dawn. Blue nights where my essence and I wandered lost, between narrow alleys of life. I still remember your first sobs, your cries of intense clamor asking for freedom for our people. You were fragile, with an absent gaze lost in infinity, with large and very vivacious eyes. You didn’t pronounce words, or phrases with sense. Your soul lived in other dream worlds, where silence reigned eternally asleep… That’s why nobody listened, nor listened to your incessant wailing as a child…
My beloved son, I still remember your first steps! You saved, only in a magical and precise moment, the course of my life. Being innocent, you saved my spirit from eternal fire, and I was reborn again, among ashes and fatuous embers, like a phoenix in its eternal imaginary flight. Hot embers remained, but now I try to extinguish them. Turn them off with your sweet eyes, still innocent but already released.
Freed from fatuous deceptions and naked lies. Liberated from the golden cage of human slavery that, between its bars of gold and silver, enclosed your scarlet soul in the tender childhood. You moved away that terrible monster that terrified your childhood. Your childhood captivates between seven bars, and silenced by chains of steel and silver…
Your look, mirror of fear, reflection of the terror of war and hatred between peoples. But in your magical world, of fairies and elves, you flew to heaven amid sweet dreams of Morpheus. We were flying together towards human immortality, towards the snowy peaks of our beloved Himalayas. Son, now I’d like to return to undertake those flights with you, those forbidden desires and longings for freedom of our people. I’d like to protect your sleeping essence, and guard your beautiful dreams. Dreams of pure souls and immensely white. Dreams of innocents, lost looks, in the sunset of a golden mirage…
Whispers of Tibetan bells arrive with the north wind… They’re sweet sounds, mirages brought by the indomitable winds. Whispers of mantras softly brush your cheek warm and rosy. Winds of Tibet caress your precious soul of divine scarlet angel. Let no one hurt your sweet and eternal flight! Don’t let anyone hurt your angel wings deployed to the southern winds!…

Maika Etxarri
Copyright poetry and photography

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Acerca de palabrasdeluzypaz

Soy un espíritu libre poeta, enarbolando la bandera de la paz y libertad, en este universo existencial. Vivo en el eterno presente, aquí y ahora, bajo el poder del amor, sin la incertidumbre del mañana, sin la esclavitud del nuevo orden establecido mundial. Maika Etxarri Escritora, poeta, blogger y fotógrafa Autora del libro: La rosa del desierto
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