letters without hope

i came like a tree
and you stirred me
like a wind,
i whispered, songs

left my heart, i shed
for you my bark,
and i felt your eyes
inspecting my trunk,

my branches and twigs
as if i was a painting
not so perfect, a man.
you liked the leaves
moving, talking to you

my companions, birds.
i recognized your voice,
and living in a dream
i waited for your touch

i was a human,
and i came with all,
with blessings to give,
with needs and expectation

for shelter and play
and a carpet of days
and of nights to weave
together in grace,
a long walk hand in hand

now i have grown
four more rings,
autumn has arrived
and winter is coming

i lost my leaves, my words,
my twigs, my branches,
my arms, i stand stark
naked facing my death.

you write to me, each day,
i feel your soul in the sea
of mine, you are there,
your clouds, the raging past,
feel you melting with your skies,

feel your balance and  your
falls, your dreams,
your voice moves through mine,
your earth and your beauty so far

i join you playing with dogs,
you dancing on your land,
down at the river,
up on the mountains

i feel no bud on me, no more
hope, lost all expectation,
i  lost my alphabet,
syllables stick to my tongue,
there is a clot in my throat

i cannot answer nor tell you
what wanders through my
deserts, that i am a plant
without flowers.

i cannot tell you:
come here.
come in my arms.
i know the answer.

i talk on the weather,
God, the call of crows
and the colours of the season.
see, i am not dead: i sleep.
all turns quiet now.

and it is as if
sound falls back into itself.
the last, they say, to die-
is listening.