Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia) Titelbild

Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia)

Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia)

Von: Marcella Boccia
Jetzt kostenlos hören, ohne Abo

ZEITLICH BEGRENZTES ANGEBOT. Nur 0,99 € pro Monat für die ersten 3 Monate. 3 Monate für 0,99 €/Monat, danach 9,95 €/Monat. Bedingungen gelten. Jetzt starten.

Über diesen Titel

 In Neurodivergent and Proud, Marcella Boccia, an Italian poet in Srinagar, weaves a lyrical exploration of identity, intensity, and defiance. With echoes of Yeats’ mysticism, Tagore’s spirituality, and Neruda’s raw passion—shrouded in a dark, haunting beauty—this collection delves into the depths of living with borderline personality disorder. Set against the turbulent backdrop of war-torn Kashmir, these poems mirror the fractured landscapes of both place and psyche, capturing the weight of emotions that refuse to be tamed. Through verses that oscillate between tenderness and storm, Boccia embraces the chaos of her mind as both a burden and a gift, rejecting the labels imposed upon her. A thread of longing weaves through the collection—an enduring, platonically charged connection with a Kashmiri poetry professor, a love story written in silence and distance. At once a declaration of selfhood and an act of poetic rebellion, Neurodivergent and Proud is a manifesto for those who feel too much, for those deemed too intense or never enough, for the wild-hearted souls who find solace and strength in words. Boccia’s voice burns like an uncontained fire, a song that will not be silenced.2025 Kunst
Folgen
  • Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

    Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English
    Feb 12 2025
    Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia)

    Love does not come to rescue mefrom the depths of my soul’s tempest—it does not offer its hands,glowing like stars above the chaos.No, love does not save.But it holds me,tenderly,in the way shadows hold the earthwhen the sun has gone to rest.It does not extinguish the firesthat burn within me,nor still the storm in my chest—it watches,quiet as a ghost,as I spiral into myself,and waitslike a forgotten songthat lingers in the corners of silence.Love does not heal the cracksthat grow with each passing hour,nor fill the emptinessthat stretches out,endlessly,like a barren field under a cold moon.But it holds me,in the way the ocean holdsthe waveseven as they crash against its shore.It is not a savior,not a cure for my wounds,but a soft murmur in the night—a warmth that does not burn,but touches me like a whisperthat speaks in languages I have forgotten.Love does not save mebut it keeps me from falling apartinto the dust of a worldthat has forgotten how to breathe.And in that quiet,in that steady embrace,I find a sliver of peace—not salvation,but something far more fragileand beautiful:the comfort of knowingthat I am held,even when I am lost.
    Mehr anzeigen Weniger anzeigen
    2 Min.
  • Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

    Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English
    Feb 12 2025
    Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia)

    Beneath the weight of dreams,I scream—a sound swallowed by the hollow night,a cry that never escapes my throat,its edges sharp like broken glass,but muffled, lost in the softness of a lie.In the silence of my room,where the walls are made of shadows,I am crushed by the weight of my own breath,each inhale a struggle,each exhale a surrender to the dark.The pillow beneath my headbecomes a tomb for the words I dare not say,its fabric soaked with the tearsI do not want to cry.I scream for the souls I never saved,for the love I could not give,for the promises I broke in my sleep.My voice shatters,but no one hears it—not the moon,nor the wind,nor the silence that cradles mein its indifferent arms.The scream is a secret,tucked away in the folds of my mind,where it festers,waiting for the moment to break free.But it remains trapped,suffocated by the comfort of false hope,and the pillow,oh, the pillow—it whispers back,telling me that silence is salvation.So I lie,the scream still lodged deep in my chest,a fire smothered by the weight of my own shame.And I breathe in,and out,as the night wraps itself around me,silent and heavy,a reminder that some screams are meant to die in the dark.
    Mehr anzeigen Weniger anzeigen
    2 Min.
  • Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

    Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English
    Feb 12 2025
    Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia)

    In the hour when the sky bleeds into the earth,I die—not in the silence of a distant night,but in the trembling breath of dawn,where life and death make love,their bodies woven in the threads of shadows.I die in the arms of a memory,one too fragile to hold,its weight a river that cannot be crossed,its waters too bitter to drink.The past pours over me,its fingers leaving bruises,each one a story I no longer wish to tell.Yet, in the very same moment—I am reborn.A fragile flame stirs in my chest,its flicker weak, but not extinguished.From the ashes of my grief,a new world rises,its edges sharp like the promise of rain,its sky unclouded by the weight of old wounds.I am born of a river I did not choose,its currents dragging me under,and yet, I swim.My body is both broken and whole,a contradiction as old as the wind,as certain as the sun's return after the storm.I am dying and reborn,a cycle too tangled to untie.In this brief, fleeting hour,I am both dust and stars,both prisoner and freedom,both lover and lost.And in the silence that follows,I find myself anew.
    Mehr anzeigen Weniger anzeigen
    2 Min.
Noch keine Rezensionen vorhanden