Friday, 16 March 2012

the gift

she woke me up, proudly holding flowers out to me. she had picked them all pink, of course. seven roses, two more than her age. i took her in my arms and kissed her, but she was obviously bothered by something. i laid the bouquet, delicately sprinkled with little white flowers whose name i didn't know, beside me, and turned to her. it didn't take long before she started to talk. 'you know, i will always look after you', she said. 'i will give you coughing syrup and wrap my shawl around your neck and mouth, and i will give you my winter coat and i will tremble in the cold'.

i felt something like a dark knot in my belly, a pain expanding in my body, but i couldn't react. she continued, quickly: 'you are the most beautiful in the world, nobody is as beautiful as you'. it was already too much, i burst out: 'no, no, this can't be, you are, and even more beautiful'. she looked upset, and brushed my words away, in an almost angry tone which left me no option but silence, again: 'no, don't argue with me. it is you who is the most beautiful'.

she hid her face in her hands: ' i don't want to see the world's face ever again, i only want to look at you'.

no lover has ever told me more beautiful words. i told her that, that nobody, ever, had had such words for me - yet this seemed to throw her further into some kind of distress which at first i didn't understand, she kept repeating, with a growing look of desperation on her face: 'but i don't have any words left to tell about this, how beautiful you are, i can't find any words, what am i going to do now, what?'

suddenly, she stood up, covered her ears with her hands and said, calmly, as if she had reached some definitive conclusion, witnessed an irrevocable truth: 'if there are no more words left for me, then... i'll explode. ' booooom - still covering her ears, she let herself fall on the bed, pretending that she was dead.

only if one looked very carefully, her breath would be visible, gently coming in and out her mouth, trembling for a moment in the air before scattering upon the glimmering roses. only a rose, it struck me amidst my perplexity, such numbness that i couldn't even rise my hand to touch her, only a rose can be without inner combustion, when there are no more words to tell of beauty and love. yet we all forget this truth, as we grow up, and the art of exploding, the only one which could give the real measure of our being, is forever lost.



  1. i won't comment on your gift since it is as fragile as a dew drop; it requires a solemn space uncluttered with words, for words are incapable of pinpointing the essence of a drumming heart.

  2. Je t'envoie toutes mes plus douces pensées Roxana...
    Les enfants sont les plus belles fleurs de nos jardins secrets...
    J'ai ressenti une grande émotion a la lecture de ce texte ,l'amour d'un enfant est inconditionnel ,pur ,entier et si fort...
    je t'embrasse avec toute ma tendresse et mon amitié..
    Prend soin de toi...♥

  3. One of the most poignant, painful, and sweet compositions you have ever done!!

  4. stunned ... silenced with awe, for her, for you, for this love :-)) ... any further words are useless, impossible ....

  5. my beautiful friend, this is so incredibly beautiful and poignant-you have brought us to the purest vision of love and beauty
    and if I name you the goddess of dreams I name your daughter the princess of dreams- her powerful expression of love through words-I will always look after you
    I will give you coughing syrup and wrap my shawl around your neck and I will tremble in the cold,-what beautiful powerful poetry and the boundary of her youthfulness dissolves in the magical air and she has lost her innocence in this moment she speaks as a mature exalted spirit and a wise philosopher of the springtime when the words can no longer bridge the blossoming springtime love it has to be something more beautiful like pink roses and the devout silence and the quiet explosion of love as she expressed herself
    and in the first image the white flowers explode from the sky like the very last beautiful snowfall on earth of delicate springtime flowers because you have reached the ultimate beauty here.
    I bow before the princess on the bridge
    and I wish you ladies a Happy St. Patrick's Day!
    could I possibly wish you any greater luck in love?I think not!
    HUGs for your both.

  6. Extremely evocative words and images. Powerful and yet subtle. This post is a gift, this whole blog is a gift...

  7. the tension, the painful desire to live, experience and name. it is impossible but it is the very tension that keeps us upright, humming as these beautiful (sometimes disfigured) sacs of energy.

    see? and with the first photograph i was thinking, this is roxana. this is roxana's way of being in the world, so distinct and identifiable. i don't think there is one person who comes here and experiences you who does not feel at least a fraction of what this child feels.


  8. the last two posts are just so beautiful, what a gift you are passing onto your secret girl

  9. I went looking for an appropriate quote for this most-glorious of all posts. It is this:

    I cannot forget my mother. She is my bridge.
    - Renita Weems

  10. Your little girl is very intelligent and sensible! I bet it was the most beautiful and fulfilling 8th of March ever! kisses for you and for your BB

  11. when there are no words left, and when explosion is not a option - eloquence still resides in pink roses!

  12. :: she has a point; so too you - are they are the same, looked at from different sides?: in many ways we live two lives, one progresses from the child to the adult, the other travels in the opposite direction. You and she both get this - one starts with all the life in the world, yet no words; the other begins when all the words are old and life is newness no longer. ::

    You presently inhabit a portion of the intersection.

    :: smiling for you both ::

  13. With such intensity of feeling, an explosion of rose petals is inevitable, with small white flowers settling like ash amidst the fallout.

  14. J'aime beaucoup le commentaire de ffflaneur qui traduit bien mon ressenti également. Difficile pour moi d'y ajouter quelque chose, si ce n'est que tu te réinventes à chaque fois...c'est fabuleux ! Amitiés Roxana ♥

  15. am citit,si stiam,si se intampla la fel cu toate Textele,cum spuneau si calugarii din filmuletul-acela:sa citesti este usor,sa intelegi...mai mult,intelegerea,cate etape parcurge,cate intelegeri,fiecare recitire are in ea o extinctie si o rememorare,fiecare imagine "explodeaza"intr-un roz care se simte mai pal,deci mai rafinat,sau mai ardent,deci la fel de,dupa ce am recitit,m-am dus la bucatarie,sa imi fac o cafea,mestecand cuvintele,intrebandu-ma ce voi scrie,uneori e atat de greu sa soarele acoperise totul,farfuriile,masa,peste tot era un nimb fara bruscheti,dar,mai ales,luase foc,ca sa zic asa,un capac de metal,pus sa arda acolo,in soarele de la ora 6-si m-am gandit ca acesta este Trandafirul,ca toate contin in ele promisiuni de epifanii,desi acest cuvant face totul fad,prin numire,iar Clara a avut,ca intotdeauna,dreptate,explozia e gata sa se produca intotdeauna,nu conteaza ca mergi sa faci o cafea si te asteapta un vulcan.

    simulacrul pus in scena de gesturile unui copil-nu stiu ce imagine poate trezi mai mult freamat in " chipul lumii "

  16. thank you so much, all of you, dear friends, for being here and sharing these unique pink roses and white little stars with me, which, i have now found out, are called 'baby's breath' in english, how fitting!!! (one of the most astonishing coincidences ever). predictably, i don't have words to add to everything which has been said here, and to what has been only felt, in silence, with so much understanding, tenderness and closeness...

    thank you, again and again~

  17. oh, Deine kleine Prinzessin :-)! Das Bild ist wirklich sehr sehr schön und es ist schon wahre Kunst, ein Porträt zu entwerfen, das so rein in den Farben und so natürlich im Ausdruck erscheint. Ich bin wahrlich beeindruckt und berührt. Ich habe das Bild oft angesehen bevor ich hier endlich etwas sagte.... :-)!
    Und die Blumen, die Farben, Erinnerungen, hoffnungsvolle Erinnerung... verzeih mir, all das will nicht so richtig zum Text passen, der so viel Verzweiflung in sich trägt... obschon, tiefe, feinfühlige, aus der Seele geführte Gedanken (und wie soll es ja anders sein bei Dir...).
    Dir alles Liebste, ich wünsche Dir einen wunderschönen Tag und bis bald!