Milk, honey and poison

A thread of voice that never finds breath to come out of the mouth, an imprecise and disjointed line that does not meet a piece of paper. These are the words that we keep inside, those that taste good, sweet, necessary. Kept in reserve for special occasions, like bottles covered with dust that die from aging and a bad day come out of the cellar to see the light again after a lifetime, without anyone being able to testify how noble and worthy of glory their contents were. . When one day we realize it, many times it is simply late, the message cannot reach a recipient who has gone away, celebrate a moment that is no longer inside the heart. Milk and honey that does not sweeten life, because it is never lucky enough to be savored.

Bad words come out more easily, they must not get space between the head and the heart, they avoid reasoning and reflections on how much it may be worth it and what the most appropriate moment for the solemn declaration. They are poison that we have on the tip of the tongue and it comes out naturally without shame, either by defense, by instinct, by lightness or by revenge. Pulling out the poison seems to take off a weight, get rid of what makes a moment bitter, while without realizing it the poison marks and dirties our heart, robs us and drains us of the best energies, making our face ugly and stupid. life.
Difficult words would be made on purpose to clarify and illuminate small shadows, look face to face and discover in a glance the same need for respect and the same desire for happiness.
Even those usually remain inside, turning a small hole into a chasm, turning a small misunderstanding into a war without borders.

It is resentment that accumulates and saturates the air, instead of thinning out until it disappears. Every word that does not come out is a state of mind, feeling, emotion that is not communicated, a need that cannot be recognized and satisfied by no one because it was never revealed. Every word that dies inside becomes a shell that covers our heart because no one understands and hears us. Annunciation of unhappiness, demonstration of the prophecy of a sad end that we had self-pronounced, an act of injustice that we commit towards ourselves, anxiety that rises up to eat our life.

How many beautiful things we don't make happen. We punish ourselves and then blame others. That's how we are done. How many times do we get sucked into a summit or get lost in a labyrinth, filled with sadness, carefully planning the perfect strategy to never get out of it and establishing the supreme rule: do not ask anyone for help. Knowing it is a chance to do it in another way, recognize the poison on the tip of our tongue and throw it away, fill with milk and honey at least once in a while the people who deserve our gratitude, our affection and our respect. How often do we think there is none, when they could be all.


Marco Grossetti
NP October 2021