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Yi1ncmlkLWNvbHVtbjpudGgtb2YtdHlwZSgxbisxKSB7IGdyaWQtY29sdW1uOiAxIH0gLndwLWJsb2NrLXRvb2xzZXQtYmxvY2tzLWdyaWQtY29sdW1uLnRiLWdyaWQtY29sdW1uW2RhdGEtdG9vbHNldC1ibG9ja3MtZ3JpZC1jb2x1bW49IjcyMzdkOWI4ZDdlMjQxZDg4Njg0OTYxMGQzNjZlYTg2Il0geyBkaXNwbGF5OiBmbGV4OyB9ICAud3AtYmxvY2stdG9vbHNldC1ibG9ja3MtZ3JpZC1jb2x1bW4udGItZ3JpZC1jb2x1bW5bZGF0YS10b29sc2V0LWJsb2Nrcy1ncmlkLWNvbHVtbj0iMTVkYjk4ZjhhYmI3MWFlOTNmMTNhMDBkZGE4ZWRkMjIiXSB7IGRpc3BsYXk6IGZsZXg7IH0gICB9IA==
Sono liriche musicali e potenti in cui, con un’eleganza sobria, ma piena di riferimenti classici, emergono sentimenti forti e si toccano temi con una passione, talvolta così sentita, da emozionare il lettore. C’è il bisogno d’amore, il desiderio di silenzio, la malinconia della solitudine, il tormento di una fede sempre cercata con lo sguardo rivolto al “quel Dio indifeso”, la volontà di urlare contro l’ingiustizia e il male fatto dagli uomini, il ricordo delle vittime della brutalità e dell’orrore.
Sono emozioni che diventano poesia per chi sa aprire il cuore all’incanto offerto dalla natura generosa di immagini, di colori, di profumi, di contrasti di luce, emozioni che è più facile cogliere se tace quel “vociare estraneo” del mondo e prendono spazio quei silenzi interrotti solo dal “frusciare delle foglie/felici per il canto di un usignolo” (Ho bisogno di parole).
Talvolta l’amore si mescola al rimpianto per quello che sarebbe potuto essere e non è stato (A mio figlio), talvolta si riflette nell’immagine stanca e dolente della vecchiaia, talvolta si fa disperazione nell’inascoltata richiesta di aiuto di fronte a “una porta chiusa dietro ad un muro di silenzi” (Ho bussato alla tua porta). Ma per tragico contrasto l’amore è protagonista assoluto nei versi, che sono un’elegia, dedicati allo strazio di una piccola vita, spenta da una disumana follia, negazione del più naturale dei sentimenti “E’ svaporato il tempo delle fiabe/dove il Lupo Cattivo viene ucciso/ e Cappuccetto Rosso resta vivo” (E’ soltanto un bambino). Potrebbe allora sembrare che l’Amore sia sconfitto e calpestato se, al contrario, non ne emergesse come sentimento potente, indistruttibile ed eterno, se non fosse, come “tempesta che rivolta e cambia l’esistenza”, un grido della vita che per sempre vince sulla morte.
Massa, 10 maggio 2015 Membro di giuria
Prof.ssa ELENA BOLOGNA