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
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.
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.