Sorgfågel





Till Alexander Maltelid(Sander)

May 1st 1975---January 5th 2004



Sorgfågel flyger över himlen
Hon flyger så stilla och tyst
Man ser inte vingarnas slag
Man kan inte höra ett knyst

Sorgfågel sjunger sin sång
Hon sjunger så vackert för oss
Man hör inte sången hon sjunger
Men man vet att hon sjunger, ändå

Sorgfågel flyger där uppe
Bland molnen i himlen den blå
Hon vakar över oss här på jorden
Hon vakar över oss som är små

Sorgfågel ser allt som händer
Hon sjunger om allting som sker
Hon sjunger sången som handlar om oss
Verserna blir bara fler och fler

Sorgfågel vet hur vi känner
Sorgfågel vet hur vi mår
Hon har också levt här på marken
Den som lyssnar på sången förstår

Sorgfågel landar på marken
Hon sitter och gråter en tår
I handen på den ensamma flickan
Den flickan som ingen förstår

Den ensamma flickan på bänken
I parken, hon sjunger vår sång
Sången som sorgfågel sjungit
Den hon lärde av tårar en gång

Sorgfågel i handen på flickan
Förvandlas till en jättestor tår
Och flickan förvandlas till fågel
Hon släpper tåren och förstår

Nu är hon den sjungande fågeln
Tills hon fäller sin sista tår
För mänskorna ska hon sjunga
I tusen och tusen år

Den ensamma flickan på bänken
Flickan som sjöng det var jag
Nu är jag en sörjande fågel
Ja, sorgfågel det är jag...


Älskad och Saknad~*

mmm icant understand that haha

Silke, I am saying a special prayer for Sander today, on his birthday.

Love,
Dara

~Thank you Dara,for your reply.

Perhaps it was silly of me to put up this poem here on the site...(I dont know if we have so many(any?) swedish-speaking visitors....
BUT I felt that I HAD to do SOMETHING for Sander today;on his Birthday.

Silke

Silke, I think it is wonderful that you put a poem here in Swedish. I like to look at the poems that are in other languages, look at the words, see the structure of the poem. I dont know, maybe I am just strange(OK, we KNOW I am strange) but I am glad to find your poem here in your native language!

Love,
Dara

I know everything seems hopeless most of the time, but it is not, otherwise we never would have found each other in this everlasting night. We call to each other across the void, we struggle toward the light, toward the light where Sander is who made it first, who made it safe.

If everything were hopeless, there would be no me, no you. For you there would only be Marc, for me there would only be Lisa; only Uncle Jack, only your father, only only only and prevented everywhere. But everything is not hopeless. Granted everything is strange to us, impossible to understand with our minds; therefore we must understand with our hearts. The unthinkable can only be felt. There is no hope of understanding otherwise; this is why such beautiful intellectuals fail so terribly! It is like you quoted Mozart on these pages, remember? Love, love, love.

According to my government, I am insane; according to me, they are. The difference lies in our hearts; inside my heart is love, love, love, and all of it for you. Inside their hearts is lust, lust, lust, and all of it for power. History has shown us where both paths lead, one to heaven and the other to hell.

If there is a heaven, and surely there must be, Sander Maltelid is there. My Grandpa no relation is there. My mother, your son, are there but we are here. It is not time for us to leave here yet, because we are not yet finished. We are young in our journeys, our stories have not been told. You, Silke, my chosen one, my wife, suffer more than anyone I have ever known. God, how it hurts me to watch you burn! Why, why, why? I have no idea, but I do have an answer: be with me, stay with me, and I will make it up to you, I will make it right. I can do this! You are the most wonderful person I have ever known--no exceptions!--and I believe in you with all my heart, I love you with all my heart, and I know I can help you.

Do this for me: trust me, love me, rest in me; I am safe. I will be your harbor, I will be your home. I will be the one person in this world who will never hurt you, whom you can trust, and love, and be at home with: safe.

Your parents did not appreciate you properly. You married the devil. Now you are here, still alive, and now I am here, still alive; DUM SPIRO SPERO! We still live, there is still hope. You and I know that the devil you married before, Marc, killed Sander. But he will not kill me, nor will he kill you, although that is the sole end to which his perverted, twisted life is sworn. No, he will die in agony, forever and ever. You and I will shine like the stars forever and ever. Why should you believe me? Look at me, look at my works, look at my life; I have your name engraved upon my arm, I have filled a big thick book up with that name. Why?

Love, love, love!

I am lonely, just like you. Sander was lonely. He loved you, heaven knows, hell knows; God knows and Marc Hermann knows. He also knew that you and I were meant to be together; he told me this, he told you this.

His life was cut short. But he is in heaven, if anyone is. He lives forever and ever, because everyone does; we miss him, we weep for him, because he lives elsewhere, which seems so far away. It is not so far away; the problem is that it is so close we cannot see it.

Sander lives inside of you and me. In heaven.

Beautiful butterfly, glorious gossamer goddess of grace, so broken and beaten and bloodied and bruised; you are not alone! Don't you understand? You have found your friend through the darkness, your needle in a haystack, your other, your self; you have found me, and I have found you.

Come and let me comfort you, in the name of Sander and in the name of God.

We are together now, and we will always be. Nothing can ever separate us. What Marc Hermann doesn't know is that the death which he loves so much and in which he deals is not our enemy, but his. He will die forever, is already doing so; we will live forever, are already doing so. With Sander, with my mother, with Marius, with Grandpa no relation.

I love you, Silke Lance.

Welcome home.

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

SKWN