It still feels like betrayal
They walk among us still — the souls of proxy-fighters we betrayed. Most of us still stagger streets with down-cast eyes; air-pods filling our heads with blazing hymns. It’s painful […]
Power of will
Have you ever seen the greatness in a toddler’s fist — clenched in tantrums and the way her mother bows obeying to her whims? Have you ever wondered how much […]
Winged jealousy
Sparrow If I were you, with wingspan wide to let me leave this soil and sail on winds, and watch them from above, tethered, tied, antmen lacking visions blue enough […]
Two of a kind
Is there any sense of soil in the way my chromosomes are curled? Or is the grass and wind expressed in the way I spin my words to syllables? I […]
Like every mother (maybe)
When my mother bought herself a chainsaw for clearing up the woods I thought that it was something every mother does; just like keeping socket wrenches in her handbag (after […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 