You,
had closed your doors and left the rumbling darkness outside…
and me, to its smoldering elegy.
You stretched the silence through the rest of your time,
and found again serenity as it were half the year before,
before, and when, we still were by light allured.
But not I, not no more,
not with your hissing lips and staring eyes, marking my every movement.
I know you are dead; how can I doubt, or imagine otherwise when I’ve felt your last exhaled breath upon my cheek, cooling already,
and whimpering while…
Then your body limp in my arms have I carried you to our love smelling blanket.
No. I know you are dead for I came to see you again moments ago.
And still my tongue is scarred with new wounds, before the old ones have closed,
and my lips are red and moist with the blood that’s born from your first innocent kiss.
And I remember now, again;
here, the learning touch, there, the exploring eyes, the guilty smiles…
my breathing again in rhythm with your pulse.
Where now are those beautiful thoughts, those mesmerising looks from the depths of your eyes?
Where are now those ghostly hours in which we hid and laughed?
…
I shake to envision her tongue, in its dry, decomposing cave, echoing words of hate and revenge!
Oh, how I despise her!
I really do; for she’s made me do what she’d like me to do, what I couldn’t resist doing.
And now she’s back, scratching with filthy fingernails against the inner walls of my head.
And I see her wearing her black, blessed tunic and shedding it always shyly, to my reaction.
Oh, I hear other whispers, from behind the walls, behind the observant eyes of the portraits, their frames vibrating with ominous mutterings.
And I claw at my face, the face that exists within the transparent dimension within the mirror.
I can feel her blood, sticky and already coagulating,
and I smile at that pitiful face and weep for those paused moments of unfulfilled sympathy.
And I ask these walls, if they can forgive me.
What a delicate wreck I have become since these arms raced around in circles and joined hand in the moment of that explosive insight.
And was it not between one tick and another that I had presented my message and thus, my final withdrawal from His side?
In a flash of lightning, a snake tasting air, a bat changing course?
…
It seems that I’ve become in need of receiving that very message.
She speaks it, word for word…
and reminds me of yesterday and the autumn before…
Before and when we still did light adore…
Yes, the autumn before, when we, under the falling leaves of noon, had smothered and buried our child of sin.
Do you remember the last we saw of his face… lit up by the glimmering sunlight that filtered through the dying leaves of the oaks?
Remember his last gurgle, trying to grasp his last swallow of breath… tasting a mouthful of soil instead?
Oh, and I wonder what the spirits of the forest must have thought of us.
Did they wonder about the two wretched hearts working with bare claws under their heavenly beauty,
eyes, pairs of dark storm clouds brimming with loads of rain, of pain…
Did they hear those prayers, the two falling angels screamed in whispered tones in their horror and delirium?
Did they imagine, did they question, did they judge them?
…
This night I stand here again, and watch the last drops of gentle rain kissing the earth and the otherworldly, dancing earthworms; who together produce an aroma of fertility I want to, I need to inhale without ever exhaling.
This night, I stand again… above the unmarked grave of my unnamed boy, under trees budding with new life.
I see down the hill, the moonlit lake where the fish still jump,
I see the village houses with the warm lights in their windows and smoke rising from their chimneys,
I see the dirt path leading up to my once home.
I see its charred remains on top of the adjacent hill and can still hear the screaming of the rabbi standing at the window of his locked room.
I can see him leap into the hands of fate,
I can see him lying among rocks, limbs spread in unnatural angles.
This night I kneel and look up, and see only points of distant light,
This night, I look at my hands and see them stop shaking,
This night, I put my hands against my heart and feel it beating,
This night… I stop the weeping.