MY BLANKET

My blanket is a loving clown with a face whose color has drained away.

On good days

It serves as a pantry:

stolen beetroots and jams

armies of vermin

swarming all over them

leaving brightly colored streaks.

With wounds in our flesh we gouge out

a path for senseless convoys.

At night, exhausted,

I wrap myself up in its worn-out warmth

as if to forget.

It also whispers to me in its threadbare voice:

“Chin up!

You have to carry on.

You are not allowed to weaken.

Feelings kill, don’t forget that!”

You have to allow yourself one certainty:

that this nightmare will end.

Even if believing on your own is difficult.

Through its

gray, stained, moth-eaten face

I see circles of plain sky,

often black.

Sometimes full of stars,

if I want to push my luck.

And with the wings of my broken dreams,

I hold the blanket tight.

Then I think of nothing.