Louis Philippe Romer

In this strange forest: many things, 
Never felt and never seen. 
Darkness and patches of light,
Pass through the branches of the trees. 
Black and White don't turn to grey, 
In this strange forest growing here.

Grab one of those Microcosms,
See their blood flow,
In your hands,
You can also see mine,
Slice me open and find out.

In this forest, our water is not.
Our water is not clear like the yellow puddles,
Of rotten leaves that one can find here.
No- our water is black.
Blacker than the eyes of a fruit bat,
But at the same time clearer than,
Any of these rivers.

In that water you see the truth, 
Sleeping naked in the deep.
Maybe that is why we walk so long,
And let thorns lodge themselves,
In the soles of our feet;
So our eternal pain is felt again, 
With every step we take.

I want to return to my black water, 
And let its warmth dissolve me...

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Römer, Louis Philippe. P’e Flor Pèrdí: It’s Too Late Now. De Curaçaosche Courant, 2004.