Gabriella Alziari

It will come to me

It will come to me.


Like blades of grass flowing through a distant breeze,

I taste the cherry summer,

moisten my chapped lips.


I am a tribal chief pounding on a drum.

I burst alive in song,

my body full of nature.


The spirit of the egret

rests inside my soul,

its wispy, gentle wings

enable me to soar.


I am steadfast

to my core.


I step into the paw prints

of those who walked before me.


The leaves rain down upon me.

This earth,

it swallows me.


I hear the distant voices of the gods.

They breathe in my reality.


I pound together stones.

And in the darkened night,

after thirty tries,

I create sparks of light.


In the gentle dusk,

I hear those tender words.

I trust within my soul.


I am united to my core.


It will come to me,

It will come to me,

It will come to me.