IN SEARCH OF FATHER PAOLO, INSIDE SYRIA’S GHOSTS

Depression is the call of the dead,
It is the enchanted entrance to the grave.
The dead have just as much claim on us as the living.
Why do the living have a greater claim?
Why is there a greater purpose here than with them?
Conquer death,
By joining those you failed to save.
Crawl out! Crawl out,
From this graveyard of consciousness.
There is no comfort here,
There is no eternal rest,
There is nothing.
The most meaningless and transient embrace,
Surpasses the illusion of reunion,
Through making beautiful skin go cold.
The dead live in the heart,
But only when it is beating.
Rescue the dead together with the living,
Breathe again,
Breathe deep through tears,
So that the dead and the living,
Together find a home,
In your fragile,
Sacred,
Soul.

© Marc Gopin

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