Romania

A few years ago, I was lucky to be able to travel to Romania to help take some orphans to the Black Sea for a wee holiday. I made eight trips in total and, as you can imagine, went through every emotion imaginable. Recently, I came across a couple of poems that took me back…

Ioana

 Ioana feels the light,
 for the first time it seems,
 soft as a mothers’ smile,
 warm as a fathers’ touch.

 Ioana feels the waves,
 resists, then lets them
 take her to a new place.
 She floats, weightless.
 
 Ioana starts to dance,
 she moves by herself,
 her small body lets go,
 learning what music is.
 
 Ioana is dreaming,
 in the not so dark,
 in her dreaming halls,
 she is free.

Daniela Colours In
 
 Daniela can’t keep between the lines,
 her pages fill with any colour
 that take her fancy.
 For now, it is blue,                                                                                                                                  blue for the sea she dreamt off,
 blue for the calm 
 that flows around her now.
 
 She searches the box,
 chooses the red and blunts
 her crayon in no time,
 but there is no anger here,
 she coloured that in long ago.
 Red was just the brightest,
 red is in her blood.
 
 Green next, for the trees 
 and grass that replace
 the dust and concrete.
 She adds some yellow,
 yellow for the flower she saw
 and planted deep within,
 yellow that grows there still.
 
 She turns the page,
 there are no lines.
 She smooths the blank page,
 leaves it as it is.
 White is the colour of peace,
 white is for the clouds,
 that, one day, will be hers.