<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=493230" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Somewhere In The Middle Of This Journey</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">somewhere in the middle of this journey<br>is the chaos of our presence<br>we like to dislodge and vomit of this<br>nostalgia of where we come from<br>we like to go back to the womb<br>and regret having grown our legs</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we blame the hands of the midwife<br>we want to pinpoint who slapped us<br>we like to hear the sound of vengeance<br>of our first cries</div><div style="margin:10px 0">did we cry for help? did i cry because <br>i never asked to be put here? <br>or did i cry because i am just making a lot of nonsense<br>about my innocence about despair? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i get some names of fathers and mothers and siblings<br>i write them on a page of a book and i ask what if they were not there</div><div style="margin:10px 0">what could have been? what could i be part of? <br>i shout, i am an individual, i am not a part of this relating places<br>i am not a connection of the branches and roots</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i stretch my hands wanting to touch and get hold of a rope<br>there is nothing there to put my neck in shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we get some comfort to the miseries of others.<br>we become brave from the stories of their sorrows and misfortunes.<br>we read the stories and the poems of those who know what is wrong.<br>what is pain, what is so distressing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">soon we learn this game. This art of shrugging our shoulders and then<br>putting the payment on the table, not drinking the glass of beer.<br>Leaving the table and not saying any word at all. And this we tell ourselves, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am courageous. I am silent. I grow alone. I die alone. I am beautiful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=493230" data-title="Somewhere In The Middle Of This Journey de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="somewhere in the middle of this journey is the chaos of our presence we like to dislodge and vomit of this nostalgia of where we come from we like to go back to the womb and regret having grown our legs we blame the hands of the midwife we want t..."></div> </div> </div>

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