© Isa Lisboa
I see distance
From what was
Once pain.
A paved road
Lies behind
Each square
Marking a story.
I see distance
From who
I once were
And yet
I am now
So much closer
To her
The lost girl.
These walls
Are now
Truly a home
My skin
Is now
My own.
I see distance
From all of that
Which created the scars
I see beauty
In each of them
The skin needed
To be cut
And the blood
Needed to be drained.
I see distance
From that time
When the scars
Have slowly disappeared.
I see distance
But I know
That time is there
Waiting for me
In the distance
That I see.
© Isa Lisboa
Sometimes
I seem to forget
For a brief moment
I seem to forget
The different layers
Of evil in the world.
For a brief moment
I am reminded
That good people
Can do bad things
That fear
Can darken a heart.
Sometimes
My heart feels darkened
Too.
Seeing that humans forget
Forget that being human
Is being unique
But part of a greater thing.
Humans can be cruel
Even not knowing it
Humans can bring sadness
To hide their own.
Maybe the hardest evil
To fight
Is that one
No one sees
Blended in with normality
Hurting another soul
Because they do not know.
Sometimes
I seem to forget
That people forget.
© Isa Lisboa
Poesia
(Des)construtora de almas
Estás nos imortais versos
De folhas amareladas
E nas novas páginas
Sem papel, digitais.
Rimas
Mas também não rimas
Como eu.
Refugias-te em letras
Músicas
Símbolos visíveis.
Mas escondes-te à vista,
No vento que passa
Na flor que abre
Na água que corre
Sem rumo.
Como a minha caneta
A experimentar
Rabisco
Deixo sair, os dedos vão
Andando, escorregando
Por entre palavras
Sem sentido.
Tento juntá-las. Dispersas
Algumas
Quem disse
Que precisa ter sentido?
Se para o poeta tem,
Deve vir de algum
Pedaço d’alma.
O artista cria
Nem ele sabe o quê
Por vezes.
Só sabe que aquele mármore,
Pedaço de barro,
Tela em branco,
Quer ser outra coisa.
Assim é o poeta
A tinta desliza no papel
E algo surge
A que chamamos Poema.
© Isa Lisboa
21 Março, Dia Mundial da Poesia
(Eu)nigma 