I wish I could explain to her,
Why there are so many wars, and peace is hard to find.
I’m ashamed to say I’m only 21 and I live a better life
Than the majority of the world.
Hatred, shame, brutality, at the moment rule the earth.
If tell her peace will return, it would only be wishful of me to think,
And I feel like such a hypocrite,
Explaining humanity’s suffering from a distance, out the thick of it.
As if I can really understand how people out there live,
Whilst sitting in my house, with running water made of brick.
Come si dice…Peace? – 4/8/2014
Your prejudice does not erase
That I am human
With the content of my character
I am a woman
With the Love in my heart
I am a mother
With patience and kindness
I am a friend
Bearing the burden of your hate
purifies my soul
is equal to my humility
sets me free
© Elena Andrean
Hey Guys! Sorry I’ve been so absent recently…I’m still here! How have you all been?
Looking back through the year at my poems I wanted to pick ones that I really enjoyed writing to post again. These two I love because although I didn’t have an idea in my head when I started it showed me what I felt was important.. and also maybe they are quite relevant with the situation the world has on it’s hands right now :(
To Tell A Daughter
So then we start to listen,
and we learn to open ourselves up,
into the possibility that the world is more than just our own, to tell her
In her heart she is more than the land she comes from
but in her heart she must hold that land dearly
because from it she blossomed.
How her beauty grows despite corruption,
her grace holds despite suffering
means she is nothing short of perfect,
despite the things she may have seen.
To Tell A Son
So then we start to appreciate life,
so much so because we gave you yours.
We live in the possibility that the world can be anything, to tell him
The world may get bigger but you will learn to see everything,
and the land you are from will start to seem small,
but you will learn that you need it and want peace for it all.
You can be a conqueror besides that of men,
teaching you this early you may have every
means of freedom.
Whoever Brought Me Here, Will Have To Take Me Home All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
in my thousand