Poems written in English in early 2016

In a strange country, I look around

The curious things. People on the street-

looking ahead, I'm the odd one out.

Falling away from their steady pace

stopping to catch my breath.

Absorb the humid air

the gazes of others -

fixed ahead no hesitation.

Behind their eyes

memories of what?

Flowers of a colour unknown to me

Voices of a tone I never heard

Incomprehensible things?

I catch the pace

I walk and walk

I become as unreadable as the others

Standing in the water

not too cold. not too deep

I am a lady in waiting

for the water to turn into a forest, into a fire.

For a paradigm shift, a fuck-you to the current circumstances.

I am waiting. The water turns colder

Still no less water no less an ocean.

Surrounding me. An atavistic embrace

Either I get what I want or I drown.

Rising higher now. Darkness falling

It is a womb, a waiting room for a world.

my garden is a memory of dawns mist and greenness and long noons ripening blooming always blooming always there.

corridors like old horror films bare feet on the carpet the repulsive secrets of long-gone years against my skin I'm unaware.

on the third floor there are things written on the walls, messages for my eyes unable to read.

Saw you on a street, any one.

Vague recognition

You told me all your secrets knowing none of mine.

Now just a shrill voice cutting through the morning.

'It's cold today' words translucent like your warm breath suspended on the air, impossible to grasp.

Such a small voice

pretended not to hear it.

if you stay long enough the plaster might reveal a crack in its faded colour the concrete might crumble before you unleash the sun into the room.

quiet, still wait for the static of the silence to change.