la nascita delle cose segrete

beautiful poem, please keep writing.

I can't say much then what has already been said
for my comments will just ruin this beauty...Congrats on the Win!!

I always found that piece mellow and associated it with the transitioning between autumn and winter. It sure makes for a beautiful title, “The Birth of Secret Things”.

“If I were you, I wouldn't have forgiven myself.
I wouldn't have the patience to wait and see what lies beyond the infinite
when the clouds finally learn to part.”

I don’t even know what to say, you open this poem up with an equally haunting and beautiful stanza with a smidge of the unique way you frame your imagery and narrative.

“If you were me, your footprints would be stolen by the bloodthirsty sea
but every morning I'd remind myself not to worry too much
because new ones appear eventually to take their place.
You would thank the fog not for its capability of concealing
all your insecurities, but for the company.”

This entire poem vaguely reminds me of Friedrich’s “Wander above the Sea of Fog”, and I think that stems from this stanza mostly. There’s something comforting and bittersweet about the lapping tides eating away footprints, and whether or not the footprints are supposed to be symbolic of someone’s presence (or absence), the supposed ‘company’ of the fog (which I personally think you’re equating to nostalgia, but it’s more than likely you were personifying it into a specific person’s company as opposed to just a stranger’s company).

“When the fog comes, you warn everyone that I'M A SHADOW WITHOUT THE BODY.
There won't be a single fingerprint to find in the gloomy seven-thirteen kitchen;
just a back door left ajar

swaying to the psalm of a drunken storm's laboured breathing.”

Again, this is beautifully haunting; the emphasis on ‘I’m a shadow without the body’ is extremely interesting, the narrative implies your abrupt absence and the imagery within the verse ‘drunken storm’s laboured breathing’ lends more credence to you personifying the fog with someone in mind, and that fog transmuted into a storm (of memories).

“I warned myself about October; took a deep breath,
shut my eyes then plunged right in to the moonless.
Many Octobers later, I am reminded
that the fog will always be there when I return.”

‘plunged right in to the moonless’, I just wanted to highlight that, it’s a beautiful way to describe darkness/the devoid.

“If you were me, you'd realise that I'm a body without the shadow.
If I were you, there would be no one left in this milky world to love you."

I love this ending, especially ‘…no one left in this milky world to love you’

Sai, love this. I wish I had some votes left, love to see this on the front page come Monday. Beautifully written.