Too light for earth
Too heavy for the clouds
I’ll find my peace
Inside the space that fills my house

Beneath the moldy ceiling
Above the crooked chair
I’ll find a god
He’ll laugh and stroke my matted hair.

I want to skim the tops of trees
Where flight birds make their nests
To find some quiet there
To get some needed rest.

But I’m too light for earth
Yet heavy for the clouds
So I find peace
Between the spaces of my house.

I hang my heavy head
With twine around my throat.
I thought I’d find relief
And, yet, I float.

I should have known
Salvation’s just a passing thought
Where tears are payment
For hope that’s sold and bought.

The gods are gone
They leave behind the damp
Of early morning dew.
They flutter in the clouds.
They rage under the ground.
They mock me with the sounds
Of breezes in the trees
And noiselessly they hover
And bend me at the knees.
They dig my grave
And dangle me above it.
They stretch my mouth in smiles
Light fires in my eyes
They make my face a mask
Of terrified and happy lies.
I want to fly, but they
Tear off my wings
And toss me far away.
I want to feel the sand
Under my feet.
And so I pray.
I pray, I pray, I pray.

But gods are cruel.
Our misery is their mirth.
I am too heavy for the clouds.
I am too light for earth.

~Violetta Nikitin

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