Celery Stix
Célia Mestre
I hold my hand as a shell
A shell shape. My heart shape.
Holding the little drop of water,
I rush for shaded pathways.
I stare defiantly at the sun,
as I feel my skin getting dry.
And I think that maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe I should let it go.
Just turn my hand over
and let the little drop run down my fingers.
Set myself free.
Release the ocean trapped inside my hand.
Release us both.
Release us now.
Release us never.
It is the ocean.
It is the ocean I’m carrying in my hand.
Holding my hand as a shell.
A shell shape. My heart shape.
Holding the ocean of you.
Expoente M 