Touch by Blaga Dimitrova



Everything is divided up with boundary line,
which is a contact to something else.

the stem is imprisoned in bark –
Through it, feels both wind and rain.

The fish is armoured with scales –
through them it senses the sound of waves.

The sea is clamped by shores –
through them it touches the thirsty land.

I am nailed within a woman’s skin –
through it I know caress and wound.

We contact the world
only through our boundaries.

And in becoming more boundless,
we will become more lonely.

Blaga Dimitrova

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