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can the written word change the world? yes, because it can touch our hearts and fulfill us then, today and in the distant future perhaps more than anything else.
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Seitenzahl: 18
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
dedication
i dedicate this book
to my wonderful family:
my two daughters
and my husband ...
i love you so much.
And
to prof. friedrich zavarsky,
who encouraged me to discover my talents
and my passion for language and literature ;
as an educator and as a valuable person.
thank you for everything.
parable II
there
between the lines
lies a light
in the folds
of my
desk lamp
maybe
the inkling of a
poem
do not destroy it
if you
thoughtlessly
think
about something
dark
waidhofen/ybbs
formerly home
now at home
more often
disconcerting
because
the foreign can´t take root
in the narrow streets
in a pattern mix of
narrow-mindedness
and ironed smooth
pinstripe and vintage
balls and events
a well-maintained
elite parquet
which is slippery
but also
well suited for
dancing
dying city center
empty benches
in between an
overgrown mountain
steeples and schools
why did i return
here
perhaps
you mean more
to me
than i hoped
far away i have
learned to dance
on smooth boards
without slipping
and the people here
are still
just as lovable
like many years ago
i am
one of them
covered
the climate change
heats me up
the ukrainian war
occupies my head
rising poverty
makes me ashamed
coronademos
horrify me
the election result
makes me angry
but still
nothing can stop me
neither
rising sea levels
neither war pictures
neither children starving
neither hate speech
nor election stream analysis
from telling you
that the world is good
if you roll up your sleeves
and keep them rolled up
and if you leave your
own comfort zone
that the world is
and will always be
the way we ourselves
create it
if i did´nt believe(for herwig)
before you had to leave
i should have told you
how important you have been to me
how much i respected you
and - in my own way -
loved you so much
that everything misleading
between us
had long been cleared out
and did no longer exist
than in memory
how ashamed i was