Ways of Forgetting

I didn't mean a thing to you, ever;
How, in what troubled dream,
Did I discover
This truth?

Painstakingly,
I climbed the stone stairs
And saw underneath them
Everything,
Just as it really happened.

The rain threw its humid curses
Against my dashboard, and I wondered
Who would course me so
That I couldn't see
Even the shiny, yellow line,
That separates life from a horrible death,
A line that appeared, disappeared and curved
In a bewitched whirl,
Before my eyes
Where blood
Spilled from its ford, oozing down my face
Parallel with the torrent outside.

But, I was nothing to you, wasn't I?

Then why did you, night after night, send,
Emissaries of death
To hover over me greedily,
Seeking to melt my heart
And make me forget?

I could see your reproving figure,
Standing in the corner of the room
Where you were trying your hardest
To forget, in your turn.

Night, an abettor, a spotted cat,
Mixed in alembics of smoke
This recipe for forgetfulness.
Thus, my dreams started avoiding other beings dear to me;
High in its sky, and busy,
My dog had forgotten about me already;
Mothers carried by time,
Sighing, faded away;
Brothers and sisters disappeared among clouds;
Only my grandmother with her ember eyes
Returned here, time and again
As if she never went
Anywhere.

A Time Comes...

A time comes to toss out the flowers
Slowly rotting in the vase on the pedestal,
To wash my face in the all-knowing rain,
And, as if to chase out the mellow graveyard smell
To open wide the shuttered window
And curiously watch,
Whoever may be walking
Down our street.

What if I'd open the book
To the first page
The one with the live heart,
The one with the new heart?

And turn it to the page with the vast knowledge
That speaks to us about the soul and about burdens,
To understand why God stopped us beside the tree
And why
Chasing us out of Eden
Then gave us the world,
A garden,
Full of sky-blue books,
And of brightness.

Thoughts

Every doubt takes on the color of your eyes.
Every breath of the wind is a whisper unuttered by you.
Every night adds a new shadow to the distance between us.
Passing on high, the planes
Release us,
Release us.

Could we
Be totally free,
Free of each other?
Because all that doesn't speak
Only of you
Speak to me -
The roads, the trains,
The leafless poplar knocking at the window,
The deep dream of the sea.