The silent thunder outside
~ and the lightning strikes on my back.~
My steps in harmony with your still beating heart
~and my senses? Stropped so sharp.~
I cursed every single shade of white,
~the window’s plain sight~
I cursed that people cannot be preserved like fine art.
I hold on to your rays of will and power,
~the warmth your cold hands radiate~
~and the washed out paint on your palette.~
~I hate to be the first to cower~
~at the idea our hands will one day separate.~
You mock the deadly waters with your self-taught ballet
I dread the funeral flowers beside your bed.
My tongue tamed, my imagination running fields.
A burned film of me reaching for the dead.
Climbing a cypress, extending my hand,
as if I have a power nobody else wields.
~The white silhouette walks in again,~
you’d expect her to blend in with the background.
~Yet she stands out like a red stain,~
as she alarms us with her every sound.
Do they even know how well you play the violin?
Or how much you love Berlin?
The drops from the IV drip pour me out.
I’d say I often cry wolf but it’s a lie… I shout.
I glare at the hourglass running out
The world emerged in a silence until I started,
like a wolf on a full moon, to howl
They held me in place like a terrorist,
as they were losing your heart made of gold.
I felt mine being crushed in my fist.
I was begging you to break the sleeping character that you hold.
A bomb squad waves the flag of defeat.
Hope slapped me down to my feet.
I tried to grab me away from this dream
But my lungs vibrate with a bloody scream.
Our last spark plays in between,
where the divine must have taken control.
Counting on my tears to wash away my sin,
to be worthy of the halo you saw over my soul.
25 February, 2023
