Resurrection

Resurrection

A Poem by Cristina Moldoveanu
"

a poem about filliation, spirituality and the difference between man and woman

"

In my time I looked at my hands and I understood:
I resemble my mother.
Life flows out from my joints and comes back to itself through my fingertips,
according to the season. I juggle with life, I give it and take it back.
Either I keep my hands in prayer, or I place them on the bare ground,
I am just like her.


Yorick died to me not so long ago. 

He was gentle and subdued in the hands of Hamlet
and it was also him looking at me around the mirror of Mary Magdalene.
From the smoke of my cigarettes, little black spiders appeared 
between my fingers and I smashed them one by one...
but today they are resurrected, sadly jolting on the dirty floor.
I did not know that even they can come back to life.


Today I speak to Yorick's son, whilst through the pulse of my fingers
yesterday's sun still passes towards tomorrow:
you too, your Kindness, you are alike your father.



© 2017 Cristina Moldoveanu


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

127 Views
Added on February 20, 2017
Last Updated on February 20, 2017
Tags: spirituality, heritage, Magdalene, Yorick

Author

Cristina Moldoveanu
Cristina Moldoveanu

Bucharest, Romania



About
Poor and alone, getting old in Bucharest, Romania more..

Writing