Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Far as the stars
shining at night
on the dark canvas
the time together
but I can still feel
the scent of the lilies
in that home
whose windows are closed
since that gloomy day
The sun comes back
and rises the moon
again and again
the colours of the seasons
seem to be the same
and so the murmurs
of the waters flowing
to their mouths
but the sense of joy
when with you
my guide my angel
And still I can hear
your reassuring voice
and feel the touch
of your hand on mine
when talking to me
of life and love
with words of wisdom
Where are you Mom
do you love me still
@Maria Miraglia
Gaza
I have seen so much
And heard so much
To believe that a part of hell
Has moved to Earth
Not only with the stench of burning flesh,
Flames screams and cries
Invocations and curses
But also with the demons
Who in the underworld left
Their bestial forms
Their tails horns fangs
claws and black wings
But with them they brought
Their wickedness
You can read in their disturbing eyes
Their evil smiles and
Their way of rejoicing
Over the lifeless bodies of innocents
The demons disguise themselves
In human form,
Which also carries the scent of sulfur.
One of them loves the carnival
And wears the clothes of Francis.
Who knows if it’s out of scorn or madness
But the dead children in Gaza
Will rise like angels
With white wings
And be welcomed in God’s presence,
While on Earth
In a land destroyed
By hate and greed,
The memory of their bloody faces
Will haunt the nights
Colouring with nightmares
The dreams of those demons.
And if by chance
Or for unknown reasons
They’ll not receive
The proper punishment on Earth,
They will undoubtedly have a ticket
To the most fiery of hellish circles.
May 2025
©®Maria Miraglia
When The Chalice Rises
No one knows
if the sacred narrative is
like the church fathers
tell us
Collected events
from distant a past
reported by rumours
that speak of hell and heaven
of Cain and Abel
of the Magdalen
the snake and the apple
Everything suggests
imaginary stories
for foolish and gullible people
told in an archaic language
the modernity refuses
to understand
But when on the altar
the chalice rises
in reverent silence
bow the bystanders their heads
@ Maria Miraglia
