
healing the entrails
from the injuries of life
not an easy task
healing the entrails
from the injuries of life
not an easy task
guérir les entrailles
des blessures de la vie
pas une mince affaire
In the holey bubble of her memory,
words escape, moments return,
sometimes
pierce the frail wall of the past
that gave her a first name
Dans la bulle trouée de sa mémoire
les mots s’échappent
les mots reviennent
parfois
percent les murs frêles
du passé qui lui donnait
un prénom
when I think of those who touched my story and disappeared in the archives of time without leaving any tangible traces, and me the same thing, when I think about it, I blink (or it looks like it))