You cannot know how does a rock feel
still echoing in the distance,
you cannot know how does the wood feel
reduced to ashes,
you cannot know how does a dog feel
wounded by the shoe,
you cannot know how does the far away sea feel
full of dirt and black spots,
you cannot know how does the grass feel
glimpsed by the pouring rain,
you cannot know how does the wind feel
while beating people.
You cannot understand my words
until they come out of your mouth.
You cannot understand me
until you become
this complicated being,
with a maze instead of a brain
and questions instead of dreams.
more by URSULA RABAR BABIC
photograph by Maxwell Davis
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