To be a rake…
a rake made of a sturdier iron
which at dawn and towards the eve
worn by a thoughtful hand
gently combs the earth
who is it made of.
I must learn how to die
as for living, one lives anyway
to learn from the birds vanishing in song
from the blue sky slipping into rose
and from the river flowing undisturbed
over the fish scales.
I dreamt I died – she said
and climbed, petite and teared up, into my bed
and peril mirrored black in the black eyes
and I caressed her hair of light
and calmed her, saying: it was just a dream, go to sleep.
and she went to sleep
and I dared not ever to wake her.
And I have
And I have what I did not want
and would not have dreamt
all I would not have wished onto
any other human.
be jolly and don’t try
if you want, you can very well
say that I’m hermetic
that I have locked myself in a harp of bars
grown right inside myself and which
I shake without making any sound
having nothing else to say
I say it’s OK.
Whatever is possible
Having appeared in the world unwillingly
I will stay as much as I can or as much as possible
Because I need so many visas
So much air, and freedom
But in the end
I will become that that cannot be seen
Which sings in water and smiles in stone.