The Circle

Like the ice off the earth
In spring,
Like a lie in the presence
Of truth,
Like dry ink off an old
I can feel melting off me
My face,
And my heart I can sense
Every wrinkle and tear,
Every smile,
With whose help it would
Speak to the world,
And who’d pass to it
The world’s reply
As I watch my hands wither
Like leaves,
That I’d gather in bouquets
Each fall,
I recall what a joy it once was
To hold
Rock and snow, and the sunset glow
Over the ocean
As if sculpted from
Alien ash,
My legs, too, crumble
With the wall of time,
And the winter wind
Carries away
All that’s always been his –
Never mine

The Boy and The Bird

I’m sorry,
I’m soaring
Higher and higher;
The liar,
I said I would stay;
I am flying
Through clouds, and
The world is
As white as I,
And like me, it’s abandoned
And deaf
Don’t call my name
You don’t know it;
I dreamed not the dreams,
That you believed I did;
There was not in me
A human heart to give
I was a song, which failed
To find a voice,
A poem,
Sounding more like prose,
An eagle
Without the gift of seeing
I’d hidden my wings,
Two broken things,
Away from you,
Away from me;
I’d thought I could stay;
But when I felt the sun,
Again tasted the wind,
I remembered, what
It meant to have wings,
And forgot
I had promised to stay;
I am sorry,
I’m soaring
Higher and higher,
On two broken wings,
Strung together
By light
The higher I rise,
The longer I’ll fall for;
Go home,
Don’t stand waiting for me –
The one, who traded you
For a moment of freedom

As I Recall

As I recall you,
You are so much better
Than the stranger,
Who stands before me now;
Your eyes are clearer,
Unclouded with regret, and
You smile so wide, so often;
Now – small and sometimes;
You are much younger,
Braver in your gait and speech, while
Today your sight chases the short
And cautious steps you make hesitantly
Tell me, who stole the face,
Which I was unashamed of?
Who broke the heart of steel,
Which never failed?
Who put you in the black clothes
You are wearing?
Who forced you to adopt the skin,
That shows no signs of living?
As I recall you,
You are so much better,
Than to be told or ordered
I stare and stare,
And hardly recognize you,
The woman in the mirror,
Looking back quietly
As I recall me,
I am so much better
Than her, who moves her lips
Yet, says nothing

On Holiday

All the prayers have gone unanswered;
The gods, it seems,
Have gone on holiday,
Smoking Cuban cigars,
Betting galaxies and lives
As they laugh and play
Russian roulette
The world’s been left ungoverned;
The gods, they know
It’s too busy to rebel,
Selling and buying souls,
Some dirt-cheap, and others so
High-priced that even the gods
Must bargain for them
All the dead’ve been left unburied,
And those who have survived
Have lost their minds;
There was no one to pray
To, and nobody to blame,
No role model to abide
By the rules of the game
The world has all but ended;
Because the gods have gone
On holiday