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Written by Lina Ru
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[“When will I come back?” Ity asked
“That is not our choice.” they all said.
“Good-bye,” Ity said as she began to walk toward the entrance, asking
herself why had she decided to risk herself in a way she could lose
what she thought she was. She was still there, and her identity was
intact.
She crossed the door. Totery, the art of a good death, came.
]
As I painted
my old ghosts,
I fell into death.
Death?
This place isn’t lumber.
{…Do we fear death or do we fear the unknown? Do we fear losing what we thought was important? How can we be confident, and stop fearing?
}
I can’t remember
who I am,
where I was,
what I did,
but the love I gave,
the love I am.
{…Nobody knows were to go. Nobody can learn for you. Everybody can see, but that does not mean they are right. I'm not right. Nobody is, but... who are you? }
Why do we forget
who we are?
If I am born again,
I would be more of us,
more true, more love.
{…Question me. I am right. Come on! Do it. I am wrong. Where does the truth lie? Where do I go when I go to sleep? Who am I after losing my body? Why did I forget who I was? }
Why do we forget
who we are
if we can be love
at every instant?
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