We are in pieces.

Fragments.
Shards.
Tiny particles that don’t fit together
Mismatched codes,
Ironically similar
In our flaws and lacks

We walk, but we don’t question the journey.
We don’t understand the path,
It seems deprived of destination and purpose.
We just carry on,
with or without legs
With or without eyes.
We just follow silent orders
Anonymously in the crowds
We dare not to stand out of norm, of compliance
We can’t stop
Catch our breath.
Disrupt traffic,
Rest.
We succumb to the steep climb.
Hopping that the unbridled descent
will shorten the path, spare us, somehow.

We walk, breathe,
we eat and sleep
when possible.
We obey
inevitably.
We are all besieged.
Inside and outside
all the walls in this world.
We are patient and we go mad
We wait, and we hope
that something will change
Someone will save us
Anything will happen
Besides the pain
Despite the fate
Beyond the insanity
Above the oppression
Under the sun
We are scattered all over the place
Living lawful lies
Defying absurdities
Coping with what is.
But what is
Is way less than we deserve

We dream of surviving chaos and catastrophe
Hoping our fate would heal and redeem us.
We surrender to time
Holding to the pieces that are long gone
Whipping the dust off our remains
wipping dry tears off our eyes
We continue,
filled with shivering hope
and whatever is left of
our sacred innocence.

Luciana Mariano (c)

Waiting – acrylics on fine Belgian linen – 180×215 cm

Painting done during the Serlachius Residency in Mänttä, Finland, between March and June 2025.