Her name was Iris

Would she fly if pushed?

Would she breath if drowned? 

Would she cry if hampered? 

She used to live close to edges,

trying not to fell off, dragged by the attraction 

of tangible inert places, and gentle sparks

of her inner urge for truth, caught by those frivolous,

marginal, and half-witted cockerels,

singing louder than woolves

in the abandoned nearby woods. 

Yet she cought the tide while in. 

Her other name was

Wisdom. These days

she’s remaining young.

 

Mirjam Dular

Mirjam Dular

Poslano:
06. 09. 2021 ob 20:49

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Mirjam Dular
Napisal/a: Mirjam Dular

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  • 06. 09. 2021 ob 20:48
  • Prebrano 270 krat

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