Paula Robles Nettel
I might as well give myself to sin
and stump on the silly boundaries
of the idealism that governed me
so long, so far into this loneliness.
Waiting for what?
That my body dries in righteousness?
I given up on me,
through the silence of a God
I will soon stop believing in.
I might as well jump into the pond
of disbelief,
that the righteous man exists
for I find more honest men
with their true nature exposed
in the world of open sin
than in the world
of the striving righteous ones.
I might as well become like them,
more human, less righteous.
Soul and heart have been wasted
in an a world driven by desire
camouflaged in a lie of crumbling
institutions,
sustained by pillars baring the name
of love and fidelity turned fickle.
I might as well have a funeral now
bury my heart and hope
before I wither,
I exchange them for freedom and truth
and the company
of the unrighteous honest ones.
I grieve this loss with whatever goodness
left in me,
my heart was so good and my hope so deep,
it is hard to part from them,
without crying them farewell.
Hundvåg
13.04.16
