Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Dear Poet

No one’s busy anymore

Like thunder, moving life

Winter nights

If I see her again then

When the moon will come

with branches and leaves

and twigs on her mouth

She wants to build a nest all for herself

Selfish her….

Where shall I hide myself?

In the golden wings of the vultures,

In the fog of that fear and night

Miles and miles…. Beside the walls

And the breeze, kissed by the kerosene

And bowstrings of the dynamos

Kings….and kings….

Like our marching faith….

Like every night that breathes a thousand more

With the smell of salt, love and alcohol….

And the guava trees…. A single star still lives

Like the blue wine of Nile…..

Red fire, death flowers….

The sky…sky… all around

Tearing off the mornings, the rain….

A strange sound

Old cigarette stories

Bullet marks, older than all crimes

And crimes older than sleep…

The eternal, innocent sleep…

A thousand mornings came

On a thousand wild horses

So many rivers have changed courses….

So many suns have set…

Yet, the lighthouse stands tall, oh….

All my songs….

All my leaves….

Let’s sleep….

The dew and moss on my chest

since the beginning of time

The water never knew me

Never knew… never knew….

Silent storms, silent flames, silent stars

I’m that priest of all the dead stars

You’re the taste of life

and the pain of death in my eyes…

That’s all for peace….

Life-story-smell… beside the lake

And then, for the lost tides of the mist

The Blue… the wings of the sky,

of the kingfishers, of the deepest sorrow….

Someday you stayed on the rivers

When the feathers fell…

when the leaves fell…

when the storm came….

No comments: