BALLAD Poem: Genesis, by Popsea Ionut

Do you know what it’s like
to be caught,
a prisoner inside the body of time,
locked from within
like a fetus in the mother’s womb…
That is our existence:
condemned to suffocation,
to death by asphyxiation.
But when I’m with you,
our hands, entwined,
grasp—madly—
the flesh of time,
and we dig our nails into its entrails
until they split,
until the flesh tears,
and light breaks through.
And we,
freed from the amniotic fluid,
step outside
while time moans in pain,
holding in its hand
the placenta of our becoming.
It cries out,
but our ears hear only
the music of the present,
of the moment already gone.
There,
with blood-smeared hands,
I hold your cheeks
and kiss you for an eternity,
for time is no more—
nor death,
nor life,
nor gods, nor angels,
only the demons of our love.
Nothing else.

Author: poetryfest

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