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Wednesday, February 7, 2018

possible past under a waning moon

o when i was younger
leaning my soul into your skin
in last embrace before sinking
into sleep, sinking
and rising with your breathing
presence in my arm,
near and still me,
drifting into song
and silence

when i was young
trusting into mornings,
at night dreaming of mussels
and oysters and sea,
of wind and stars and moon,
dew  and moss, innocent,
safe in my strength
and yours

when i was young
in all sweetness the worm grew,
my treacherous heart
following curiosity,
the passion of me,
growing a stranger
to you and me,
desire turning the tides


and now when i am old
the nights have become cold,
i listen to the changes of weather,
to the dance of the genes,
shrieking and singing,
turning in colours
invisible to eyes,
alone with my ancestors

and my past from
before i was born,
all gliding and sliding
into my slow fading
sun from where i will go
before  maybe joy
will be reborn

here , now, when all
the layers of me will
have fallen, in difficult
times and with eyes
seeing too much,

all this old trust in tomorrow
having gone,
i cannot fight but bear
the cruel flow of being me,
at last, so strong, so helpless,
so naked as we are,

and this way i’ll go
where i am and will be,
in last sweetness,
my autumn.

sela.



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