My heart is like a drawing compass

My heart is like a drawing compass
One leg is standing still in my Carpathian’s roots
While the other rounds in huge circles
Through mother earth so my belongings 
Colour the days with rainbows
Depicted from diversity’s skies.

You might say that I am Romanian, and you would be right.
My smile, my charm, my kindness comes 
To welcome you into my circle 
Where we Romanians draw historical lines 
On the world table. 
Ionesco, Brancusi, Eliade
Enescu, Cioran, Racovita
Coanda, Wiesel, Paulescu and many others 
Are some of us who chose the world as their global citizenship. 
You might benefit from their work. 
In this case I might say that I am proud of my Romanian roots.

[…]

I do not believe in tribes
With protagonists taking over the crowds
Pretending that their ways to god 
Are far better than other ones.
There is something odd in their gardens.
The shadows from the past are silenced
In wounded leaves.
Not too much to remember as to learn
From what brought the pain in the slates. 

[…]

Some people might say that I am gipsy 
because they only heard some gossip 
about Romanians being gipsy, ignoring the eyes of the knowledge. 
History could teach us some lessons 
yet the amnesia becomes collective 
where prejudices dance their belly on the ignorance table.

My neighbourhood was filled with arts and songs and dance.
The gipsy boys were playing guitars and fiddles 
Craving emotions at the gates of our blurry days.  
The gipsy girls taught us how to move graciously 
Within music charm, depicting beautiful stories
Through ideas and emotions.
Their colourful skirts rounding circles in delight
Brought love from the gods
Straight in our hearts. 

There was something powerful on their eyes
Coming from far away. 
A charm, a mystic world displayed. 
From them we learnt to share 
The tears, the pain, the care,
The joy, the laugh, the grace.
A sisterhood by chance.

And just to name a few
Michael Caine, Charlie Chaplin,
Elvis Presley, Pablo Picasso rooted Romani.

My feelings, my race,
my smiles on my face 
Are craving the same 
Alure, spark and aim 
To love and be loved. 
While freedom’s rhymes write 
Life stories in spite
Of all our roots, colours and shapes. 
We all own the grace 
From our mom earth,
Amazingly embraced
In a strong togetherness.

My heart is like a drawing compass
One leg is standing still in my Carpathian’s roots
While the other rounds in huge circles
Through mother earth so my belongings
Enrich my days with rainbows
Portrayed from openness’ minds.

© Simona Prilogan

…work in progress…

Credit photos: Pixabay

5 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s