Alberta Vileu

 

Phoenix

Don't come to us with referendums, 

dubious quotes, with opinions 

and burlesque references 

catalog us, 

Plebiscites are dispensed with 

and frivolous judgments, 

Executioners and thoughts 

Banal 

destiny rises from you 

From Our Words 

that carry wings on them 

to claim heaven, 

Don't confuse us 

in your dense dimensions, 

in your ghastly presses 

Circumstantial 

in your tongues like presses, perverse,

full of garbage and annals 

of this and that, 

Stories that weave

and comparables,

Spread your fingers apart 

pointed out that we want to fly, 

we want to go further, higher, 

How naïve and little 

We've been gone too long, 

Make way for us to be 

what we came to be, 

You will no longer be an obstacle 

whom we have come to overcome, 

Our feathers are gone 

in your sly nets, 

Our dreams have waned 

by your noisy mouths, 

we are from beyond and we go beyond, 

far below what you want, 

we are a bird that died, 

phoenix that prostrated itself 

and convalesced, 

who today does not accept prisons, 

No more vulnerabilities 

in us, no attachments, 

No secrets, no lies 

and neither physical causalities 

of those you struggle to have, 

we did not come to be a verb to fill, 

We came to fly and grow, 

We came to 

Gather 

Conclave to other birds 

that they came to protect 

your children and parents, 

of the wanton lightness

with which you live in the superficial,

We don't fit in your 

narrowness of mind

we have come to be one with others, 

Of those who don't bow down 

to disloyalty, 

of those of steel in the soul, 

who carry the truth, 

without needing to be accepted, 

Erasing your corruptions 

and delights, 

We came to castrate anxiety 

and lack of truth, 

We came to provide authenticity 

and voice to those who do not sell themselves 

to the matrix with applause and festivities, 

we came to be people without varnish, 

We have come to be God's warm breath, 

in musical intervals, 

We come from the arts and sciences 

that you prejudiced judge. 

We are birds, artists, 

word jugglers, 

we are whatever we want, 

your presumptions come late 

and you who killed us are 

nothing more than the lever 

by which our flight in you 

there will be a fuss, 

We are the wind that unites 

to storms, 

escaping your ignominy, 

masks that are not ours, 

uneven artillery,

we free ourselves and 

we study your signs, 

Our flight will be an example 

For many like us,

who have lost their voices, 

We are not listed 

of your trickery schemes

of your mediocrities, 

We flew to Elisha, 

On the last train of the miracle, 

and even if it is averse 

at your will,

Our destiny is to be 

real selves,

now ashes of a fire,

dying of your 

collective illusion

A death on Appendix

Bird Phoenix

that will be reborn.