“Without it, I am lost…”Hoping that nobody will notice
me, as I squeeze the ink out of my pen
cooking words and baking sentences,
slogans that guard the last bastion of sanity
Without it, I am lost,
buried under rocks
biting tightly metal tube
to inhale the missing air.
Had to sacrifice for it a lot,
on the altar made of bone and ash
with smoke rising like a cable
that I might be able to ascend one day.
Now I’m just warming frozen limbs
next to a flickering flame
of a makeshift fire;
lost in the woods,
the sky is hidden here at night.
Poetry by Vladimir Fischer
Thank you very much for any help!