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English flights - 25.06.2007 Snowflake

© Gisèle Marguier

a snowflake is nothing but a white butterfly falling off from the sky
you can choose to catch it, look at its tiny wings and see if it can fly
or you can have it melt in a split second if you change your mind
it is the blank of the page

i know that sometimes, up north by the Pole, it turns into ice
cutting through your skin, silencing your screams, and blinding your eyes
i will not let you freeze, i will build an igloo and when you are inside
there will be no more ice age

a wave is nothing but a soothing swing, a fragile lullaby
you can travel with it, deep into your sleep, away from the seaside
or you can ignore it, prefer the sea bottom and go for a dive
it is the wind of the flute

i know that sometimes, down there by the beach, it turns into storms
ravaging your work, destroying your bonds, leaving you alone
i will not let you drown, i will build an island and when you are at home
the storms will always be mute

a shadow is nothing but the way a candle celebrates the night
it is a theatre, you can invent a scene with your hands and a light
or you can also close your eyelids and have it vanish from your sight
it is the smoke of the wood

i know that sometimes, late after midnight, it turns into ghosts
swallowing your dreams, obscuring your mind and chewing your thoughts
i will not let you go, i will switch on the light and stay with you until
childhood ghosts are dead for good