The Power of Goodbyes
Poem
It strikes, painfully and almost fire-like
when you know it is time
to wave at the old days.
Why though, you’ve asked?
Imagine being the white dandelion
its arms holding to the neck
living comfortably on the light breeze
in the sun’s light on the green meadow
where everything is perfect and nothing is missing,
but same every day.
The dandelion fears the sadness of boredom
and the same voices of the birds
it runs away from the hidden wish
to fly.
The storm comes and the wind rises
making the runaway empty,
suddenly the dandelion breaks
into million pieces:
some of them find a new meadow,
some end up in a book,
some get photographed,
some explore the mountains.
But the stories of the ones
fallen in mud,
swollen by bugs,
cowered by the snow
that make it difficult to break
from the conformity of the easy day.
more by Ursula Babic
photo by Dawid Zawiła
