Elo-Mall Toomet (Ellom)


It is nameless it's nameless
It cannot be written about
Born to a world that was dead long ago

Whole towns of buildings and people
Whole towns of life and laughter
And opera seasons
At the bottom of the oceans
It can't be said out
Our lips are not shaped

To be able to word the nameless

wounded knee

I feel cold
It's the answer
It's silence and there
There was no time
For the question
The fire cut us out to the cold

The question
Is everywhere
Is in the pillow
We heavily fall on
To no dreams
No nightmares
To nothing
It is in the rain
Not killing the thirst
Poisoning the thirsty
In silence
It is in no peace on earth
It is still

I pray for voice
For a prayer

taste of blood

Blood in my mouth
Through November
I kind of like
The taste it is warm
Like many
Sickening things
But let me be gentle
My love

Where is the home
Of sincerity
I thought its roots
Ran under my breast
But it's gone
With the early snow
But let me be gentle
My love

You cannot get
Pure by going back
To look for your purity
Let us just be
The polluted beings
We are
But let me be gentle
My love

From the early days
Since the beginning
That is all we have
Our resting place it is
And our solace
But let me be gentle
Please let me be gentle
My love

About the Author

Ellom comes from Tartu, a little old university town in South-Estonia, by the river Emajõgi, or Mother River in translation.

As a poet heedless of distance and borders, she concentrates her efforts on collaborating with different musicians from different countries, to both record and do live performances. The styles range from acoustic and traditional instruments to electronic, but what matters most is the honesty, the vision and the effort put forth together to map the the inner landscapes. There are dark places, and there is hope.

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