english

Less days, you would say

Isabella Bernardo

2010.11.26

Many things are made of words

You cannot feel if you like to touch

Wishes weak up in your heart

Unfulfilled is so much

You think you have thousands

Of days you can run over

Golden fields and green grass you have seen

Sometimes with water drops

On a beautiful soft grown hill

But it need one moment of change

And your life it stands still

Darkness surround you and

Obstruct your will

The sunny days are over

Earlier as you would think

The days of harm they never end

Because it´s over the short life of spring

Maybe you had some lover

They promised you so much

Then threw you away before it came

And back he let you with a broken heart

And your mind it is full of shame

And then you have found one

He gave you the ring and promised

You a life of secure

At least he leaved you with some children alone

And you had a life it was poor

Your children grew up

And you have thought now it´s o.k.

Because they are able to going their way

But look, life is as it is at the end

You are still alone again

Your hair grew grey

And your bones advanced in years

You are watching your face

It is described of sorrows and tears

Your eyes became weak

And your stomach became sick

One friend passed away before you -

Maybe it was your child -

And you are asking what you are waiting for

Many things are made of words

You cannot feel if you would like to touch

There are days of your life

But at least – less, you would say

You have loved them much

A time to bloom
Hildegard Derheim	2010.10.25
My African Violet used to bloom in profusion, but early this year the flower show stopped. Transplantation into a larger pot failed to encourage anything but a production of more leaves. All summer I patiently watched, watered and fed the plant to no avail. I started to wonder for how much longer it should occupy a place in my window. Now fall has arrived, and with it, so my surprise, fresh blossoms have appeared as if to tease me with a schedule of their own. We just never know, if and when our efforts will burst into bloom. The timing isn´t our own.

In thankfulness to our friends, who understand our feelings!

WILL YOU HOLD ME?

Hildegard Derheim

2010.02.07

She came into my office

around lunch time,

a slender, blond girl

of about five or six.

I had seen her a

few times before.

“May I stay with you

for a while?” she asked.

I had things to do, but

she wasn’t looking

to be entertained.

She sat and asked a

question now and then.

After a silence, she

had another question,

“Will you hold me?”

She found a place

on my lap, her head

against my shoulder,

my arms around her.

She closed her eyes

and didn’t talk.

I was touched by

her need and her trust.

She was fed and dressed,

but her heart was hungry.

At least, she knew to ask

for what she needed.

I hoped she would place

her trust wisely.

After a while, she was

satisfied, got up

and left quietly.

Thank you, Hildegard! This poem confirm every

Thoughts on a special person, who walked

along with me some years after a

complicated family background: Dr.Wanda K.

Thank you, to be there for me now.

HOLY INNOCENTS
Hildegard Derheim	2009.11.25
Today, we remember the children ordered killed by Herod, fearful of his position as king. Today,still, lives are being ended before having had a chance to see and enjoy the light of day, children are exploited to satisfy the grownups' greed, their desire to exercise power and control. Infants are killed, if they are of the wrong sex or race, or less perfect than expected. Children and teens live on the streets of our cities and those abroad, abused, unwanted, unloved - no place for them to belong, to call home. They beg, steal, sell drugs and their own bodies to survive. Some become perpetrators of the violence they have experienced. Many are dead on the inside, others dying from infections, exposure, or acts of violence. Not knowing, if they will live tomorrow, they try to live today in the only ways they know. Infants and young children are abused, neglected, even killed by those expected to protect and nurture them, by those too involved in their own problems, too needy to attend to the needs of their children. Babies are found in garbage cans - unwanted, or placed there in desperation by those who do not know where to find help, or perhaps by parents addicted and irrational. These are the Holy Innocents of our days, whose pain, whose blood calls out to the Heart of the World.

In the meanwhile

(Isabella Bernardo)

2009.10.23

Under the flag and angels wings

I was born to be rise from the precipice

Under the flag of damnation,

My laughter are mocked

And men are dancing

Push and pull, were waiting for my fall

No questions of sense

What they have done

Made life to cruelty

Stirred up my wish to be free

Liars were standing in the queue

Giggled like children

Had nothing to say

Just to pine me away

Gave them satisfaction,

To put me on the thorn crown

My cries did not disturb them

In their party of hell

Had got a good stuff -

Was not easy to dwell

Red roses are cut now,

I gave them some nuts

Make them believe

That the squirrels got food

In the meanwhile I will leave,

After a long time of grief

Rainy Night

(Isabella Bernardo)

2009.09.04

It does not matter, if the lighthouse has no light

In the darkest rainy night

When storms the water lash against the reef

It does not matter, if the proudest sailing ship

Shakes between waves they are higher than

The highest walls

For there is no man who calls to get help

There is no woman waiting for these man

Thunderstorms are sweeping over the sea

Made the captain - and the crew too, free

Thunderstruck and lightning -

Show of the Power

And control -

Swept a hole

Into the hull of this ship in May

Ends the pilgrimage, just came to naught

Oh, what a bitter human caught!

It does not matter, if the lighthouse has no light

In the darkest, rainy night

Warm light

(Isabella Bernardo)

2009.06.01

I light up this candle

For tonight

Because it is looking

So warm and bright

I am lighting this candle

Today for myself

Looking the most time

At this high bookshelf

Taking a book to

Read some lines

Thoughts drifting away

To the people they are kind

They are so far away -

Thinking of places

Were I would like to stay -

And when I am so thinking

About my life

I am remembering times

As I went step by steps

Regardless the hurdles

Regardless the slaps

I walked forward

And trust that my days

Will grow better than then

Including my whole life place

Knew that I did

The best that I could

Impendent that many things

I have not understood.

This candle is shining

To warm up my heart

That is frozen after disappointments

In many parts

Too much - I think –

More as a human can bear

Trying to ignore

This restrictive fear

Waiting of warm feelings

Nothing more

Thoughts about today

(Isabella Bernardo)

2009.04.20

I have seen the butterfly
dancing upon your grave,
the sunshine and the flowers smell
touched my sense.
My thoughts and feelings
went down, just for minutes,
not so long.
I looked at the tombstone,
saw your face
on the left side under the crucifix.
So young, so pretty, as it would live,
but living was only my own grieve.
I kneel down to lit the light,
over me the sun, so bright.
Birds where singing,
a dog barked near,
I was alone, nobody here.
The silence after,
my thoughts with you,
I never will see you,
this is the truth.
But when will HE determine,
this happy day,
of course, some time,
I have to stay...
But my heart is gone
long time ago,
with you my child,
I miss you so.

A SLEEP OF PRISONERS

(Christopher Fry)

2009.02.23

Dark and cold we may be, but this

Is no winter now. The frozen misery

Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;

The thunder is the thunder of the floes,

The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time is now when wrong

Comes up to face us everywhere,

Never to leave us till we take

The longest stride of soul we ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.

The enterprise

Is exploration into God.

Where are you making for? It takes

So many thousand years to wake,

But will you wake for pity's sake!


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