Stone That Bleeds

Sea rock,

the ayazi narrates,

and with cracked hands

you keep my fears

away.

Even though you bleed from the salt of life,

even though the wave breaks your knees,

even when the night  squeezes you

like a heavy veil,

you keep your pain hidden

and you become a stone that does not break..

even though you bleed in silence,

without protest, without a voice ..

to grant me paradise here on earth.

You become a sleepless sentinel

who with whispers of love

weaves heavens for me.

That is why I listen to your voice,

which is a balm and a prayer,

which sweetens wounds,

whispering sweetly

that you will always be there,

a shelter from the rain.

As an ode of gratitude, then,

I whisper “thank you” to you,

for being my root

in silent winters.

Your embrace ;

a shelter of eternal tenderness,

your word ;

a balm that heals every wound of mine,

like pure water

that quenches the thirst of my soul.

My rock,

when my life scattered thorns,

a sheltered harbor

when the sea raged within me.

You wove with love my every step

and covered with soft silk

my every wound.

If I became a sky,

you painted it.

If I grew wings,

you were the first to dream of them.

And so, in the moon of memory,

my “thank you” to you, mother,

blooms ..

like a bright and eternal lily.

© Bania Sofia

Greece