Ladycat War Zone #9. “Riding the first ray of sunshine”

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They leap from the mountain and come to me with the first ray of sunshine, the first reflection, the first wind, his face, their faces and smiles in my eyes.
Every morning they return and in sleeps they whisper to me the new day and hold back the ephemeral moths that shine in the dawn, holding the light imprinted in the retina with it which illuminates me to the distant and miraculous tomorrow.
But sometimes she’s locked in black petals and I’m looking for you, all of you in silence friend because I’m a stranger in a stranger land, I follow your dust raised on our invisible battlefield to reign the gordian knot of our existence and fight together, our unknowable private matter that binds us from the dawn of time, which comes back and rises with the first ray of light I drink with the sleepy soul and light before ridding me to break down the crest to the desperate search for you and myself.
Even though I know it’s crazy and lost in departure, but it’s my only and only way, a desperate run with broken breasts, sandy eyes and cheeks ripe and secate to be, live and survive.
No fear, me or rule, only hugs and compassion, until the end of the race however go,
usque at finem, for the whole crystallized and immobile time of the damned. Because they do not live the death of men but perennially revive the death of those who could not or could save, but can only rest at the top of the mountain when with a bit of luck they will all come together.

 

 

“Eyes”

Blue, yellow and green eyes
With brown and green eyes,
White and black flashes
With smiles and hugs,
Both of them sleepless
Face to face,
One in front of the other
At the same height,
Then playing
You jump on my back,
And you stand up to look at the world
What we say every day:
“Hey, we’re here and we’re alive, together …”

Occhi blu, gialli e verdi
con occhi marroni e verdi,
lampi bianchi e neri
con sorrisi e abbracci,
entrambi insonnoliti
fronte a fronte,
l’uno davanti all’altro
alla stessa altezza,
poi giocando
sali sulla mia schiena,
e ti fermi lassù a guardare il mondo
quello a cui diciamo ogni giorno:
“ehi, siamo qui e siamo vivi, insieme…”

 

 

 

Ladycat War Zone #8. “Under the rain. Sotto la pioggia”

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And at the end of the pursuit they found us.
But before, they crippled us and made us blind and deaf,
strangers to ourselves, fighters of an unwanted and unrecognized mad war,
begun by others, we became fugitives.
But no one ever knew who we really were.
Because we were two ghosts in recon under a heavy rain.
The imminent end of the pursuit had taken away to us every desire to sleep and we spent the night, embraced together, sitting on a strain eroded by time, another ghost.
We waited for the sun rising with the back to the west, but the storm nailed us suddenly, without warnings.

And now, though sometimes there is the fog and the dark,
the wind and the pounding acid rain that crunches my ribs, you are still alongside me, and you are always my light and hope.

E alla fine dell’inseguimento ci trovarono.
Ma prima ci azzopparono, ci resero ciechi muti e sordi, stranieri a noi stesso, combattenti di una guerra folle, non voluta e non riconosciuta cominciata dai nostri simili, e diventammo fuggitivi.
Ma nessuno seppe mai chi eravamo davvero.
Perché noi eravamo due fantasmi in ricognizione sotto una pioggia battente.
L’imminente fine dell’inseguimento ci aveva tolto ogni desiderio di dormire e abbiamo trascorso la notte insieme, abbracciati seduti su un ceppo eroso dal tempo, anche lui ormai un fantasma.
Aspettavamo il sorgere del sole con le spalle all’ovest, ma la tempesta ci inchiodò a terra all’improvviso, a tradimento.

E ora, anche se a volte c’è la nebbia e il buio,
il vento e la pioggia acida e battente che rosicchia le mie costole,
tu sei ancora accanto a me, e sei sempre luce e speranza.

 

 

 

Ladycat War Zone #7. “La principessa e il ronin”

lwz7 it.jpgTanto tempo fa, c’era una principessa. Discese nel mondo sotto forma di una gatta.
Di una bellezza che solo pochi occhi potevano scorgere.
Un giorno lei venne scacciata e ripudiata dalla sua casa. Vagò raminga, finché non intravide una piccola casa, scorse un piccolo ronin. Con i suoi occhi capì che la casa e il cuore dell’uomo erano sempre aperti per i pellegrini come lei. Si sedette sull’uscio e guardò dentro.
Il ronin si accorse di lei e fu amore a prima vista.
Le disse che anche lui era un forestiero nel mondo, ma che aveva costruito una piccola casetta nel giardino e sarebbe stato felice se lei l’avesse accettato come rifugio, e se avesse accettato il suo amore, il cibo, l’acqua e i vestiti condivisi con lei.
Lei accettò e lo ringraziò. Era autunno. Il ronin prese la sua tazza, la sua ciotola, la sua coperta e il suo maglione. Adattò la casetta piccola ma confortevole, le mise la tazza e la ciotola, con la coperta e il maglione fece dei giacigli per confortarla d’inverno, per darle frescura d’estate.
Ma un giorno, dopo due anni, inaspettatamente sparì.
Per lunghi sette anni il ronin la cercò, ogni giorno all’alba e al tramonto la cercava sui crinali riarsi dal sole o dal gelo.
Finché un giorno tornò alla sua porta. Come se non fosse passato un solo giorno.
L’uomo la abbracciò e le disse che la sua casetta era pulita e in ordine, era in attesa di lei.
Trascorse del tempo, il ronin venne segnato dagli eventi della vita, entrambi vissero insieme altri due anni. Poi d’inverno l’uomo cominciò a sentire freddo nelle ossa, ma non intravide i cumuli oscuri all’orizzonte, ma percepì che in quell’anno non era giunto l’inverno dello spirito, come sempre.
Un giorno, scoppiò un terribile temporale. La principessa cadde sotto un’oscura ombra, cominciò a perdere se stessa, vagò sotto la pioggia dura, incessante, quella pioggia che scava la pelle, corrode le ossa e ti divora dentro, che cerca di soffocare la luce.
Il ronin non la vide e disperatamente la cercò giorno e notte, sentiva un oscuro presagio.
La ritrovò sotto il temporale. Confusa, piegata, senza forze.
La riportò dolcemente nella casetta, nel suo rifugio. La asciugò tutto il giorno, non smise mai di parlarle, di pregare a modo suo.
Ma la pioggia cadeva sempre più forte, dura, implacabile e impietosa.
L’uomo fece scudo con se stesso, la protesse, cercò di proteggerla, mentre la pioggia perforava il suo mantello e la sua pelle, rodeva le ossa e si calcinava nel suo spirito erodendolo, rendendolo sordo e cieco e vuoto.
Nel momento più buio l’uomo cercò disperatamente aiuto. Anche se sapeva che ormai era troppo tardi. Nella suo totale e contuso annichilimento, sentì che qualcuno stava cercando di dare conforto a loro due. Una donna con un ombrello di carta di riso diede un temporaneo sollievo ai due, al ronin.
Grazie, disse l’uomo tra le lacrime.
Lasciala andare, disse la donna, fallo per lei. Sì, disse a malincuore l’uomo, distrutto, poi si voltò per un attimo.
E quando il suo sguardo ritornò sulla principessa lei era andata, sulle ondate terribili della pioggia.
L’uomo la udì sussurrare. Le disse che le voleva bene. La salutò.
Poi restò a lungo a guardarla, compresso nel suo silenzio.
Un silenzio che unisce due vite. Per sempre.

 

 

Ladycat War Zone #7. “A little caliby princess and a ronin…”

A long time ago, there was a princess. He descended into the world in the form of a cat. Of a beauty that few eyes could see.
One day she was expelled and disowned by his house.
He wandered wandering, until he caught sight of a small house, he saw a small ronin. With his eyes he realized that the home and the heart of man were
always open for pilgrims like her.
She sat at the door and looked inside.
The ronin he saw her and it was love at first sight.
He told her that he too was a stranger in the world, but it had built a small house in the garden and he would have been happy if she had accettatato as a refuge,
and if he had accepted his love, food, water and clothes shared with her.
She accepted and thanked him. It was autumn.
The ronin took his cup, his bowl, his blanket and his sweater.
He adapted the small but comfortable house, put his cup and bowl, with the blanket
and sweater made of a bed for Winter comfort her, to give her the summer coolness.
But one day, after two years, unexpectedly he disappeared.
For long seven years the ronin sought her every day at sunrise and sunset on the ridges risarsi sought it from the sun or frost.
Until one day he came to her door. As if it was not spent a single day.
He hugged her and told her that her house was clean and tidy, was waiting for her.
Then, he spent the time, the ronin was marked by the events of life, both lived another two years.
Then in winter the man began to feel chilled to the bone, but not glimpsed the horizon dark mounds, but he felt that this year had not come the winter spirit, as every year. One day, a terrible storm broke out.
The princess fell under a dark shadow, began to lose herself, she wandered under the hard rain, incessant rain that digging the skin corrodes bones and eats you inside,
trying to smother the light.
The ronin did not see her and desperately searched for her day and night,
He felt an ominous sign. He found himself in a storm. Confused, bent, without strength. The he reported gently in the house, in his refuge.
She wiped her all day, never stopped talking to her, to pray in their own way.
But the rain fell harder and harder, hard, relentless and merciless.
The man made a shield with himself, protected her, she tried to protect her, while the rain pierced his clothes and his skin, gnawed bones and heroding his spirit, making deaf and blind and empty.
In the darkest moment the man tried desperately to help.
Even though she knew it was too late.
In its total annihilation and bruised, he felt that someone was trying to give comfort
to them. A woman with an umbrella of rice paper gave temporary relief.
Thank you, the man said through tears.
Let her go, she said, do it for her.
Yes, the man said reluctantly, destroyed, then turned for a moment.
And when his gaze returned to the princess, she was gone on the terrible waves of the rain.
The man heard her whisper. He told her that he loved her.
He greeted her.
Then he remained for a long time watching her, pressed into his silence.
A silence that unites two lives.
Forever.

 

 

Cats and men as an expression of kintsugi and sunyata.

kinSometimes the soul of a person under certain conditions can fracture or break.
As an object. It can not sustain the emotional impact and can rise to trauma and scars, physical and interiors. But there are also the physical scars of tears.
Accepting them and living them, fractures delimit map of lives that have crossed and perhaps clashed, never told or unknown to others, but deeply lived and fought in silence, and silent words and lives tell a story.
Not necessarily perfect, but our history.
Expressed in emptiness or Sunyata, Eastern term that implied an abandonment of oneself for a just and sincere motivation to someone else in need.
Expressed in kintsugi, Oriental art ceramics to repair broken or damaged, enhancing and characterizing the uniqueness of an artifact with its cracks and repaired fractures, voids, defects, asymmetries and dust.
Mirror themselves in the cracks and the other bumps, our accepting and loving others by living them as our strengths and treasures, jumping the fences of self and belonging sterile. Perhaps this is the meaning of the link between men and cats: a mutual and sincere act of faith, dream, struggle, despair, compassion and kintsugi.
Without limits.
As two solitary flowers born in the cracks in the asphalt that are passed between them a lone red poppy, messenger between two worlds sometimes distant, but united and born of the same substance, perhaps the same one that unites us all.