A MESSAGE FROM THE LONELY SEASON

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Reality smells like chloroform
Orphan of an answer
you tried again, and again
to hide your pain
but it was there,
for poetry and lies
are objects
made of words
carrying the messages of
the lonely season

You believed I was transparent
predictable, sentimental, vulnerable.
remote and unattainable

Sun sets in silence
I burn an incense

poetry is made of no words
It happens with the heart only

Remotely, only the heart can save us
Remotely only the heart can save us

Sometimes, I say to the clouds
“Give me back my clear sky”
But Karma stays there
Us unattainable once again
Back to the lonely season
made of chloroform smelling words

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