MEET ME IN ONEIRIA
Come, my brother, let's sit here on the edge of all dreams between the
earthly whirl and the firmament's abyss - you, free to come and go at your
whim, I, prisoner of lores that failed to teach me how to tangibly bring back
You are beyond all struggles, I know; you trip in other dimensions
and only come to Oneiria to read my heart with the burning eyes of the phoenix that is reborn inside you with every word I write. I can sense the gaze of your soul intent on slipping into the maze of my mind. But tell me, did you meet Bernini yet?
Strange question, you say? I see...Now you've become thoughtful. These phenomenal furrows between your eyebrows almost give you a tough look, a bit like David in the act of throwing the stone.
Biblical reality or fantasy? You choose it.
By now you must know much more about these things than I.
Whatever the truth is, it doesn't matter.
Part of my being is now intertwined not only with you but also with that stone.
No, not the one shot by David straight into the philistine's forehead, but the
one that Bernini chipped and chiseled patiently. Marble, you say? Yes...
And who knows if he ever slept at night. I couldn't have slept in his place, with all that mineral flesh throbbing with perpetual life in my hands.
I beseech you, get into his spirit and tell me what he felt. I need to know!
I await your report on the scar of the night. Hurry up!
The sun stretches its glowing light throughout the days. Night after night
droplets of time fill up the chalice of waiting with the greatest of
You came, at last, with Berninian lips.
"A chisel and hammer, contemplative, I grasp
and free the screaming life that, within you, lies.
I grab you by the nape, caress you
stare at you.
I carve your shapes.
I wrap you in my palms.
I rip your back
digging your loins;
mighty limbs you show off
to my peering glance.
I feel you. You breathe into me
as we face each other.
You arise imposingly
and talk with me of arts.
You inquire with your gaze
of marble, yet so warm:
Why do you give me life,
so that I can relish death?"
The sculptor's voice, through your sacred ethereal mouth, reverberates aloud.
Let's sit here by the river, now. I saw David, you know?
No, I never ran my fingers on his skin. I only touched him with my irises.
The zither at his feet was in eternal wait as seraphic chants played with my senses until love overwhelmed me.
A warm, meandering love that makes you double up in pain, dragging you down as if you searched for your heart on the ground. I felt close to death. I was baffled by so much earthly beauty but, more than anything else, I felt annihilated because I could not share all this with you, my eternal wound...
Let's sit here a little longer and listen to the zither's echo; a lament of grief woven to a hymn of victory.
Now take a look at that amazing fishing seagull, brother. I wonder if he's also a fisher of souls...
Mihaela Melnic (born in Romania) is an Italian poetess and writer of short fictional stories. She currently lives in Rome, the city that has been, to a degree, her muse. The intricacy of human nature that often travels on a parallel path and at times intertwines with that of other natural elements are precious sources of inspiration for her verses. Mihaela's first bilingual poetry collection, Change Of Seasons, written in English and Italian, was released in 2018. She is currently working on a collaborative book of poems and short stories titled Evermore, set to be published later this year through 17Numa Press.