VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Mihaela Melnic

The Other Side of Things

I wish to see
the other side of things.
So let me be now
the masculine part
of everything.

I wish to produce semen
for mere pleasure
or for a new life.

I wish to be a plant
a rock, gay, straight
a fire log
black, white
woman, man, child, animal
and be even myself
from time to time.

I wish to be Van Gogh’s prostitute
in a wheat field with crows
and let his vagabond pencil
portray me
with a harsh touch.

I wish to be someone’s person
of trust
and be used till I’m worn out
for their needs
for their whims.

I wish to be a herald of peace
with power in my breath
and spare you all the grief.

I wish to be forever child
forever woman
forever man
forever here
forever drunk
forever laughing
forever in love.

Bitter Laugh

Time is warped and I’m just as thwarted as a minute badly spent

A homeless man elongated me his last coins
but someone else took them

Time is obscure and I’m just as dark
in my thought

Someone is laughing at my dream of social justice
and I’m bitterly laughing just the same

That man conveyed me the value of his only affordable meal
and I see beauty in it.

At Leash

Didn’t they entrust you with their lore from their tongue of death
telling you how to slay the worm that gnaws you up and sucks dry the blood in your veins?

Maybe they showed you the embers turning into ash with no further fate
but this might not be enough
if you don’t fully get the sense of Sakura at its last stage.

Are you at least aware that everything begins with the ridiculous aim of reaching out the end?

In between, there’s that thing about being loved with a love that is real only when you feel its whirling physical and mental vibrancy…

Now that you know things and how to make your moves in
this intricate maze
maybe you are aware of your peacock feather deeply stuck where it fits you the best.
But, tell me, is there any shame, any pain?

Being at leash of your undisputed chain of weaknesses
might have been fun for a while
but it only allowed you to
release with each step
the stinky trail of your swollen ego,
inebriated by your own airs…
Now you might crave for a change.