POEM: I Belong - VERS: Tartozom valahová
Hi, thank you for finding me here!
First post is a poem that I wrote exactly 10 years ago, in the middle of January 2011.
On my birthday, I sometimes get into philosophical mood… Around this day of the year, it is indeed usual that something happens where I feel a new life has began in one way or the other.
At the age of 10, by an accidental meeting with another little girl, I got introduced to the local folk dance group, and that set me on a path for this life.
When I was 19, I spent my birthday in a hospital with an unusually heavy Hepatitis where the doctors said I needed to be very careful with moving, for at least a half year. A few weeks later I was on stage, touring with the dance group in Slovakia…
In 1993, I got my son as a present – two years later in January, I broke up with his father and we divorced. In the same time, my beloved Grandma, who used to sing the lullabies so beautifully, passed away…
In 2000, somehow, a very happy and productive period of my life started, overnight.
In 2008, I had a cancer surgery…
And now, without going into more details here*, I am giving myself the most precious present of freedom:
(*Note: later on, I might go into the details and tell you much more about why this poem was born)
I BELONG
It kills me when I can’t speak,
It kills me when I have to be
Silent about what I see.
It kills me when I have to lie,
When I have to put on a smile
That I don’t feel inside.
Just an empty façade.
When I see it’s black
And they say it’s white.
When I see it’s not right
And they say it’s all fine.
It kills me when I must show
That everything is right.
Insidious, poisonous,
Slowly creeping, surely killing
Cancer of the soul.
“I can’t tell it to anyone,
So I tell it to everyone” –
Our friend has said it.
So I chose to LIVE.
Live a life that only belongs to me
Yet it is of all Man.
Live a life where I decide
What is true for me.
Where I am the one
Who says what I see.
Where birds have wings to fly,
Mothers to hear babies cry,
Where the children are not shy.
Live a life where poets write,
Dancers jump and turn,
Painters set the color.
I belong to Life.
I belong to where laughter roars
And where lovers kiss,
And where empty promises
Are not part of the script.
Where sanity rules.
Where the Spirit calls.
I belong to no party, no club,
No church or religion,
Organization, association.
I belong to my own kind,
My only child,
And my peace of mind.
I belong to my own voice.
I belong to the ever-hungry
For beauty and melody.
And probably, hopefully,
I belong to another heart.
I belong to those
Who make food with a brush,
A pen, a bow, a string, a lens.
I belong to the free-thinkers,
Free-sayers and free-doers.
And when I’ll have to look back
At all my years,
With eyes already closed,
The question will be asked:
Was it good, the way I belonged?
– Budapest, 15 January 2011 (my birthday)
Cover photo: the Danube at Leányfalu, Hungary
Thank you for reading, more to come.
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Thank you a million times!!!!
So lovely. incredibly meaningful and a theme I've been exploring too. Really glad you are here
I came over from a note: I have a feeling the readership issue is that most of the users are still mainly english speaking. I assumed your poems wouldn't be something I could access by your titles. Writing in a second language is so brave and i applaud you. I sure wish substack had an easy translate feature.
Keep on rockin Babe 😎👍