Divine Child – Michel Montecrossa

I am the Divine Child with my head between her breasts,
physical and spiritual holocaust ending
in happy life and the best,
she pressing against me the warm flow of her womb.
Children know that governments can‘t just do
what they want to do.
Children‘s wholeness can.
Children don‘t suffer deep depression.

I am the Divine Child and there‘s no fortune or failure.
She is the great wave of life healing damaged brains.
She, the culture of collaboration and not of corruption
crosses the shadows of inhuman distance and tension,
is talking about the substance, keeping things moving.

I am the Divine Child
and time is one moment unutterable.
Her eyes in the darkness sense wild fires hitting hard
and violence against workers rising and unemployment.
The church clock is striking the hours of the mindless.
The relapse is there into automatic action never ending.

I am the Divine Child with no long, last hours.
I am warm, full of life and desires exposed to her.
I am the Divine Child, a fountain of impulses undressed.
I am knowledge and awareness
and any moving body is the target test.
I am the Divine Child
with my arms still closed around her.