It was freezing on those December days

It was freezing on those December days
painting my childhood routine
between queues in food market
and classes in a cold room. 
Yet the smiles of teachers melted somehow the fear;
a fear for being not good enough
for what communist party would establish 
on behalf of my name. 
What name? I surprised myself asking 
yet shhh, be quiet! they said and keep going
in this pecuniary rock and roll of the age. 
Stones breaking hearts at the borders of humanity
were nothing new on the earth. 

It was freezing on those December days
when a song of freedom touched the skies.
A choir of children singing it in the Opera’s square
praying their thoughts, kneeling on the cathedral stairs.
Terrorists alarm played instead the death game
reddening the hope, bathing innocence in blood. 
Angels were flying above tearing their eyes over us.

It was freezing on those December days
while I tried to negate
the name of the murder;
at the corner of imagination another choir was singing
till brought the angels in the square
to teach us how freedom is spelling 
in the souls’ spring. 

 © Simona Prilogan, 14/ 08/ 2019, Nottingham   

Remembering The Revolution from December 1989, at Timisoara, Romania, where hundreds of people, mostly teenagers were murdered.



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