Issue 7
June 2001
Maria Cinanni
I am 39 years old, married with two children. Italian born, I lived my childhood years in Ottawa, Canada. I however attended university in Italy. I now live in Umbria, Italy, where I work as an English high school teacher.
Being part of two completely different cultures, I feel I have in a way built up a culture of my own which makes me stop and reflect about the meanings, the symbols of the life that surrounds me, sometimes brooding about the past, and at the same time wishing and searching and hoping. So by writing I have picked up both past passions and regrets while sorting out the pieces along the way.
All work © Maria Cinanni
The Wind
Hush - the winds are wishing
the meaning be profound.
Look - the clouds are drawing
expressions of varied form.
Listen - the hills are erupting
sculptures of shiny stone.
Reach - the flowers are blowing
seeds of morning song.
Stop - tomorrow will be knocking
on every kind of door.
Help - the river is flowing
from distant springs unknown.
Watch - the mountains will persuade
through tears and a frown.
Touch - the autumn colours are prevailing
the feeling that has grown.
Wake - melancholy is covering
the different shades of brown.
Fight - the earth is hiding
those lives that will drown
Spring Sun
Sunshine peeps through the window pane: come in, don't be shy.
Let us feel the unselfish warmth that you alone know how to give.
If there's a day I would like to call my own and say I will be and live,
It is today my friend, my light, my hope, my salvation, my only try.
Would he be selfish, or her, or me or anyone else if we, I would speak,
And say I can't, even if I tried and tried all day, all night, to cry, to pray,
Let us know you care even if they are what they seem and won't betray,
I cried, why I did I won't tell you anyhow, I am here and here to seek.
Don't look for any tears to dry and dry so many times if they won't stop,
But you are not selfish, right, so you will dry them just the same I know,
Even if they sin, even if I don't pray or sing, even if my true self I show,
So you accept him, her, them and then there's my soul that will not drop.
Sunshine king, announce the spring, what are you waiting for, we're ready,
I'll take the risk, leave things behind, celebrate the music that will syncopate,
I know you can change this dejected state, I admit, so you can help to initiate,
A new beginning, a different view, my friend, my light, my hope, my identity.
The Winner
The starlight blocking my vision,
Again I couldn't find a falling star,
I stare and the sky just stares back.
And you my moon I have my camera,
You can't escape me now, don't try,
I will take a picture, or many, so I can
Stay under your loving spell forever.
Forever is written on your sweet wings
Which by morning playfully fly away
Without even waving once my way.
And why can't I remember your wings
As they were caressing me last night
Slowly, passionately, but somewhat
Selfishly. I realized that only now.
The roaring sun is here and so I taste
The pleasure with my eyes closed.
How relaxing does it feel until I get
Sunburnt and have to cry somewhere.
And in the silence of the night tonite
Flashes of lightning announce the
Storm and suddenly wake me up.
I have seen...
A marching rainbow
Of warm pastel colours
On the waterfalls
A dreamy willow
Swaying so excitedly
On a windy day
A merry ferry
Full of moon dancing people
On a cruising night
A storm of dolphins
Elegantly running fast
Near the ocean shore
A wounded sparrow
With hurt wings trying to fly
Across the hill top
A wishful player
No cheerful strength or hope
Fighting destiny.
Gentle persuasion
That song in this silence paralyzes me each time
The blue lyric of its notes brings thoughts to mind
Interacting and hidden sensations I cannot define
That song in this silence paralyzes me each time.
Eyes closed I feel, I touch, I smell, I breathe,
I see, I hope. I let myself be carried slowly
Towards the trembling voice.
I follow those languid winds lost to perception
The words speak the music of gentle persuasion
The land of acceptance takes over the reason
Fear, destruction or pain killed by the music.
Eyes open I sing, I dream, I despair, I want,
I trust, I think. I let myself be carried slowly
Through the whispering falls.
Passion blues of understanding colours my view
Every note reaches far without sparing any tune
High pitches strike me in one thousand places
My head leans down to hide behind the dream.
Flashes of felicity appear softly as
the voice becomes my only reality.
I hear that song in the distance.
I hear that song in the distance.