cold dreams

I am already tired walking for so many days… the sand is burning my foots and the sun it is to powerful for me. If at least I could find a palm or a drop of shadow…

I am lost in a land with no escape. And the only way to survive is to play in my mind with pictures I used to have around me in the past. I know the night will come and again the stars will guide me and the cold air will help me to dare to think to another day. Life is absent and all this sand it is untouched. There is only one way to afford this. I am bleeding, cannot walk anymore but the idea of a magic land it´s obsessing me and helps me to continue to walk.

There´s too much dust,  a few eagles they swoop the sky…  With the eyes closed and hands clenched I am waiting for the dusk.  I try to hold my breath to stop the pain that this warm air causes when enters my body.

A small cactus is trying to make a little bit of shadow in the powerful light of the sun. He has his secret, the shadows, that are never the same. He is trying to express his feelings and every shade of shape, day after day, but he knows there is nobody to see or to decipher his shadows. He see me and thinking… “another traveler… she will die like the others on my little shadow, such a pity!” … “but, wait, she is so white… and this strange light around her body… there must be something with her… ”

“come here girl, come on my shadow”, he said, trying to cover me with his thorns. “what bring you here child?” ” do you know any story?”

Powerless, I am trying to answer but I feel like I am falling in a sweet misery, I cannot move anymore and my eyes cannot stay opened.

“I know just stories from the desert, but I would like to hear one from your far-away land”…  But me, I know a lot of stories, I know the story of every drop of water which created me, the story of each snowflake…

Stand on his shadow, the sand almost covered me all, the thirst have dry my skin and my eyes. Lost and stranger to this place, I was wondering how come I was so reckless to leave my home. I was lost in wonder, thinking that the cactus is my tree.

Sitting there on the shadow of my tree, the branches was full of snow and from time to time snowflakes was falling down on me. Like in a dream, my winter dream. In fact, every snowflake was a dream. At one point I cannot see the difference between the stars and the snowflakes which are falling from the icy web of clouds. All my thoughts are running home. Every snowflake is like a thought coming from an icy cloud. I wanted to dream that I am snowing, that simply I turn apart into crumbs of clouds and slippery snowflakes. Over the another ones thoughts, I wished, at least into my dream, to feel the snow´s material insubstantiality, yet not becomed true snow… Is the dream that I was dreaming more often…

I knew I might not wake up so I was thinking that I wish I did.. I wish I dreamed the winter dance, white and shades of white…

Silence.. it was silence spreading shadows. Unable to count my snowflakes anymore I realized I must embrace my weakness but I knew, as far as I dream there is hope… hope for another morning, for another winter… out onto the cold where not even the sun don´t dare to shine. I was feeling the cold north wind coming, the sky was dark and a frosty air was touching gently my face. It was almost like a brutal beauty, quiet and wild in the same time. I loved the smell of the cold… and I was falling in the white chaos of my northern land… I was feeling home.