Collector of the Past

All your looking back

And all your looking down

Have given you

Your tired posture, weary eyes

And waxen skin,

Collector of the Past

/

You, heavy shadow of the mind,

What you have found,

Has it not all been lost

Or fearfully abandoned

On twisted paths you walk

To wither for a reason?

/

You pick up strangers’ hopes

And wear them like they’re clothes –

And wear them like they’re yours –

Those ragged robes

Of impossible dreams,

Outgrown by their dreamers

/

Collector of the Past

Of poisonous regrets,

Distorted histories

And of discarded loves,

You, heavy shadow of the mind,

Return to me, I beg, one minute –

/

When I betrayed the only thing

I ever loved;

/

But oh, I know,

Your quiet ‘no’ –

The echo of my fateful ‘no’ –

Is all

That I can by the past

Be given

 

Postcards from …

There are skeletons in my closet,

There’s an elephant in the room;

There’s something in the air and water;

Whispers spread as blue evening blooms

 /

I sit cross-legged in the corner

On the floor, where my fevered dreams

Lie before me, dissected, rotting,

Magic stolen from them – by me

 /

So I cut and paste back together

Mountain peaks, bullrings, oceans, ice

Smiling faces, well-wishes, curses,

Universities, slums, loves, lies…

 /

And the skeletons in my closet

Start to dance to forgotten chants

And the elephant kneels before me;

Smiling, we travel through my past

 /

To the time I believed in magic

And knew how to fulfil a dream;

Watching myself change, scared, I notice

 That I’ve grown tired, cold and meek