{"id":1917,"date":"2021-05-25T08:00:31","date_gmt":"2021-05-25T06:00:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/?p=1917"},"modified":"2021-05-25T10:04:46","modified_gmt":"2021-05-25T08:04:46","slug":"where-there-is-screaming-there-is-breathing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/2021\/05\/where-there-is-screaming-there-is-breathing\/","title":{"rendered":"Where there is screaming there is breathing"},"content":{"rendered":"

Image<\/span><\/strong>:\u00a0\u00a9 <\/span>Andres Stadelmann<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Author<\/strong>: Andres Stadelmann<\/p>\n

You sat at the foot of the hill
\nThe one which softly sloping rose high above the clouds.
\nAnd you watched, eyes twinkling as I met your gaze.
\nThat gaze
\nWrought of that deep iron which only exists in the mines of memory and experience
\nPiercingly understanding but softened and smoothened by wisdom.
\nWhat a funny thing
\nHow you of all people waited for me there.
\nI remember as a child how you spoke to me. You knew all my tongues, and I had barely learned yours.
\nBut that sensible experience became
\nThat drive and desire to know more.
\nIt\u2019s always difficult at first. It requires trust, sure, but more importantly the willingness to accept those lofty dizzying sights in order to plunge and go deep and far and above and beyond and to twirl and to tumble and to wake and to sleep and to scream and to scream and to scream and to scream
\nPerhaps too much.
\nYou always told me, yes we do want to go there. We do want to reach that summit, the clouds, the rain, the cold\u2014it holds no importance.
\nAnd that flushing hilly side beckoned yet, light parting and peering ever so slightly.
\nBut why then, what of this urgency? And who am I going with, and how, and when, and
\nWhy
\nThat love which you pronounced on your lips and in your heart, which screamed in your loins and in your eyes.
\nAnd suddenly that gaze was not so sunken, not so piercing, not so deep.
\nAnd still you looked
\nThe oxygen is always thinner at higher altitudes, your breath catches easier and you need to stop more often
\nAnd wait.
\nWait for that immense solitude, which, like the clouds, hides that questioning desire and that fear.
\nWait for it to come, and when it does don\u2019t hold back.
\nWhen it gets cold you can\u2019t hold back
\nAnd those precious piercing breaths
\nThe ones who hold sobs
\nTake them in, let them out
\nLet them comfort your heart, take them out in the sun
\nDon\u2019t forget it\u2019s all green, and you\u2019re there at the top
\nOpen your eyes so you\u2019ll know where to stop.
\nNow again there is music with a promise of song
\nStill you listen.
\nSlowly we gather our arms and take steps, which resemble the ones your children made only last year.
\nHere is dancing, here is singing, and above all
\nhere is crying.
\nDo it in silence, so I can hear you reappear. I want to go with you I want to have you here.
\nI want to feel you living
\nI want to watch you breathe
\nPlease watch me while I stare, while I glare and while I dare.
\nAnd looking towards the ocean, of that sky high and wide
\nThe same one that catches the moon when it lays to rest during the day
\nSleeping frivolously.
\nThe same sleep of course, which I shared with my mother. I slept knowing only of a love, that love which feeds the same furry hillsides we wish to climb
\nAnd kicking to satisfy those itchy jitters
\nYes mother, there is still much to learn.
\nYou know that first time when I chanced a glance, when I thought that maybe a part of that blinding light was kept for me, it didn\u2019t look right.
\nThere was something that I knew I could have followed, with my eyes closed. Never stopping, only stumbling.
\nAnd now, with you, at the foot of that hill, I did stop
\nNot to see, nor to hear
\nBut to breathe
\nWhile the world all around me keeps screaming<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Image:\u00a0\u00a9 Andres Stadelmann Author: Andres Stadelmann You sat at the foot of the hill The one which softly sloping rose high above the clouds. And you watched, eyes twinkling as I met your gaze. That gaze Wrought of that deep iron which only exists in the mines of memory and experience Piercingly understanding but softened […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1002027,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[65],"tags":[37],"class_list":{"0":"post-1917","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-2021-spring","7":"tag-prose"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1917","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1002027"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1917"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1917\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1917"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1917"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1917"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}