We quote a key verse enclosed in a subjective plurality: "We can only continue / tighten without touching each other / like flying pollen / between the fingers of the wind". Michela Zanarella (born in Cittadella in the Padua area, lives in Rome) has published L'istinto elsewhere (Ladolfi 2019), an impressionist poetic collection, sung, which transcends realism and follows the contours of light by hand, which touches on a simulacrum and keeps it in the soul to make it more clean and tangible. The splendor of the expressions arises above all from a sentimental vein, inflamed with "hot air". "From the heart I bring out / the color of a land / which I miss as the air / and all the silence of a love / that grows like the ears of wheat". In the verses the upheaval is to a confidential you, translucent in the dawn of love, in the annunciation that just touches "like the wind that makes no noise".
The introduction by the great writer Dacia Maraini explains the development of a poetic conscience ("spring water") as clean as vigorous, medullary. "And as love takes us far and away from the real world to embrace what you believe to be or really are the reasons for our life, so poetry allows itself the freedom of connections, digressions, loss of meaning, because here are the words that meet, intertwine in a game often without apparent meaning. There are no truths, but only, precisely, instinct and when words take on a meaning, it is precisely then that they go away again ”. "It would take the same light / of that time / to awaken a blessed breath," says Michela Zanarella. After the entertainment there is a rhythm, the persuasive and slender note of poetry, the commitment of the word, the profound meaning of things. There is a world waiting to be heard outside of time. Instinct is elsewhere because it cuts a tabernacle from the "sacred glow" where it stops to "incite" one's feeling, to exhort it, to drag it into another word, like when Michela Zanarella writes, moving away sublimating it, from the past (any past) : "Just thinking about what we are / I open the doors of my eyelashes / where I see a light that looks like you".
The magnetic sensitivity of the woman seeks a perfect, perhaps unrepeatable moment, catalyzed in a single kiss. If it were a painting, this book would be a warm embrace, an explosion of looks and breaths in a long field, an oxygen at the center of coloristic days, a non-evanescent trace in the gesture that is also the metaphorical gesture of the nesting gull in the tree that welcomes the slight movement of the wings. "Words go beyond the lips", in an environment that is never well determined in which to swing, in the appeal constantly addressed to the beloved interlocutor. The feeling becomes a pretext to go down on the level of dialogue, in the reflection of one's own autobiographical perception. Again: "Certain loves the sky brings them / like rainwater in the wells"; or: "I want to think that there is a place / where everything resists time". Michela Zanarella shakes an air saturated with love in a "blue fairy tale" for those who are hungry "from heaven like bread". The selection of boxes is inherent in an intimate space and the need to say sprouts in often serial figuration. The soul is lit like a torch for a poem that seems inspired by Jacques Prévert, slipped into a "fairytale smell".
Alessandro Moscè