parole*
If all words surrounding this issue weren’t clumsy and cliche
If talking weren’t like a strange game,
Like trying to balance
Seashells in a box filled with sand
Without friction or grit
And if all requests were being granted
I’d ask
For all words surrounding this issue
To cradle me like the happy swing of a rocking chair
For a moment if just that.
And if nature answered my requests
It would take simply
One sunny warm day
To heal and seal: this
And the sun would render me transparent
Or at least completely changed
And I would not need proof of that beauteous thing
Even as the sun retreats with November.
If only this could fade with seasonal warmth
Showing itself new
Like a pretty orange leaf
Happily caught
By an eye on dark pavement.
Perhaps the sign would be accepted
Seen
Like an elm leaf
That’s been holding tight
Through cold
In the name of Spring
In the name of Love
In the face of a Storm that has passed.
If things were so easy
As sheer, will-powered changes
Like clearing and cleaning off tables
Making way for things fresh and new-
I’d be a cleaner.
If this were a shaky house worthy of renovation-
I’d be a builder.
If I made the rules
I’d rewrite them
And they would be a healing blanket.
* “Parole” translates to “words” in Italian.
