POLVERE NERA.
Sono sdraiata per terra e sento il terreno umido a contatto con la mia pelle bianca.
Con i suoi passi nervosi una formica conta le vertebre della mia rachide, trentatré, trentaquattro, dentro un midollo di ricordi scorre fino al polo Nord del mio essere.
“ Dica trentatré, espiri. Dica trentatré, inspiri”.
Ho un’atonia che mi impedisce to get up, they are stunned by the excruciating pain that pierces me and I hear no sound, only after the din of whistles and void and a sun, or perhaps two, sad, pale, tucked in a coat of gray clouds, to defend themselves from the air pinches: it is October.
E 'was a storm of black powder, supersonic explosion, lightning and thunder.
My cheek is mud caked eyes are designed to sniff the traces of heavy boots and death.
I see the past, I see a cold January 29, but never like him would be to find your face blue, your defenseless body relaxed and your expression.
Me are taken with the enemy with arms, with the war, with God, with myself, with death and with you, because you left me here alone, without saying goodbye, without giving me a kiss, a caress without without whispers in his ear with your voice calm and reassuring "Adieu, mon amour."
you party forever alone, without luggage and without me.
do not know if I fainted when I came back really back in time, I feel your long fingers that stroked my belly and warm your lips that I draw on the halo front, floating smoothly in your eyes, maybe it was then that death for the first time we had seen envious.
Non c’è un giudeo in croce, ma c’è filo spinato arrugginito in lontananza e tutto inizia ad appannarsi, come i vetri al calore della stufa...mi manca quel calore.
Una brutta sensazione mi pervade e di riflesso mi accascio da supina sul lato destro del mio corpo, appoggiando le labbra alla fredda e denutrita terra, così intrisa di sangue da essere ormai infeconda.
Lascio defluire l’eccesso di saliva che mi riempie la bocca, sento delle lacrime uscire dagli occhi ad ogni conato e il diaframma contorcendosi crea spasmi, cerco un sinonimo per descrivere a me stessa il dolore, nel frattempo vomito bile.
La mia dress is imbued with the crimson dew that runs through my veins, let me live, now emerges from a hole plentiful pulsating every thought and memory and stops breathing, more and more frequently.
Burns.
I just plan on moving this morning, Otto agony, they want to reach the center of the sky before the twelve strokes.
feel.
not hear.
I can twist the arm and snatch a piece of shirt to bandage his shoulder injury, I would let it die, but I can not.
I'm tired you know?
Are laid down, exhausted, tired, and destroyed.
are oppressed by this surreal situation, the sound of bells no longer marks the time: only death.
are long and electrical silence, is palpable tension and fear every time sulfur.
Who's next?
have tamed me to pray with folded hands and knees on the ground, to invoke the mercy of the saints, the Virgin Mary and Christ on the Cross, no God will save us, no God in restoring humanity to the rest of us inhuman beings, is only the hope that the soul of the old hands gnarled knees a rattle of rosary beads, not the faith, who has more faith?
's just habit and hope.
cry now as I clench my teeth with the piece of white cloth wound around the wing button remains choked voice, I still have a voice?
Vomiting.
acid burns my throat, I am distracted for small moments, then life becomes blurred again.
I'm starting to walk towards you, I feel it, because I'm cold, because they are in a bath of blood, sweat and tears.
I will die here, under the chestnut trees that they take off their clothes yellowed to the sound of the autumn wind.
There is a revolution made only in words.
Serves blood, is action, you need black powder, used the gun, the eyes are glassy, \u200b\u200bthe pits are full of bodies, are tears, serving generations of orphans and widows. Really need all this?
Lost your life before you actually get one, I lost you, then I lost myself, I've been buried in a wooden case.
I did not shed tears because it was January 29, because it was cold, below zero and my eyes were frozen, my heart still under formalin.
Da quanto sono sdraiata qui? Non lo so.
La luce aumenta, ma nonostante ciò scorgo spazi di mondo sempre più limitati, vago tra passato e presente, immaginando un futuro che non avrò mai.
Mi distrae un'ombra, un suono, passi corrono e mi si avvicinano, non ho la vista limpida, solo sagome sfuocate.
Sagome in divisa.
Suoni ovattati.
Parlano e non capisco.
Sono loro.
Uno si accuccia e mi fissa negli occhi:
-Stirb! Verrater!- E mi sputa in faccia.
do not know what that phrase means, nothing sweet, nothing can console a dying man, nothing that makes me feel less alone with death.
He gets up and pointed his gun.
Punta.
I have no fear, my breathing is quiet.
Mira.
I can not look away from the gun shiny and corvina.
Fire.
We hope you enjoy this story, thanks anyway to all of you who read .... I will not say never ... but thanks ^___^
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