must be doctor,
I watched his hands
(they don’t tremble I think) ,
tomorrow he will cut his way
through my eye
while the general anesthetics
might make me have conversations
with my deceased father once more
(looking forward to that part actually)
and in time I shall see better.
must be patient.
This poem accidentally got the shape of a X-mas tree, it is a bit early for that perhaps. I shall be gone for a while, leaving for Sneek on the mainland today, as the surgery (vitrectomy) on my eye will be tomorrow. (Friday) Hopefully I shall be released from hospital on Saturday, I hope to be back blogging / chatting in short time. The last months were somewhat difficult but I was actually getting used to seeing just a little; it will be great to be able to read and work normally again though. Til soon and thank you all for the comments, advice, friendship and encouragement I have found so far. You all rock! Arohanui, bye, groetjes and big hugs! 🙂 ♥
To be alone, in times
that I would rather be with you
or someone just like you perhaps,
and walk a road, almost alone
almost with someone just like you,
to be a dreamer on my road,
perhaps it’s time to be just that.
First time we met
it was not exactly a tango,
it was no dance at all,
it was running across town,
in and out all taverns.
Starting our relation,
we started with nothing
but what we wrote in our letters,
and our bodies came closer
on the floor where a mattress made a bed.
Now so many years later
we do an occasional waltz
we don’t need music
in each other’s arms
in the kitchen at night.
You and me, I love you
so what if it’s a cliché,
it’s what I feel,
as I know you now
enough to dance
a waltz in the light
of the fridge.
Your hand is a curious stranger on my skin
this teasing finger
makes a perfect circle on my back
you write your name under my neck
I feel your breath and close my eyes in trust
that you will gently share your lust
your hands are warm and turn me over
for a moment then you linger
and without fear I let you in
All the grains of sand blowing senseless over land
like how my thoughts are moving towards you
away from reason and from solid ground,
they go into directions I don’t understand.
There is no word yet to describe the loss
that I felt, each time, after giving birth,
when the empty womb was useless and abandoned,
as all should be about the joy that is new born.
Many words are said about child birth
but silenced, underneath the stretched out skin,
there was safety.
I was all around you to protect you
and to fight for you with my own flesh
and my own strength. Yet there is no word
to describe my tears for you,
once you were on your own. What had I done,
I made you enter a cruel world that has no name
to call the dearest kind of love.
It was a perfect house, not ours, but of a friend
of yours, whose grandma lived there years ago, and nothing
had been moved nor touched since then. No body lived there
and no body cared we opened the front door with force.
Upstairs we had no time to lose and took off all our clothes
before we found a bed, our bodies needed to be close and closer, more
so as the night was almost gone, and ghosts
took over the dark floors below us, we went on.
Then we came down into the kitchen, there
they lingered, with accusing eyes and pointing fingers,
guilt was written everywhere in blood.
The house started to scream and cupboards slammed,
we waited till more daylight came, and left apart,
I walked the way to town and never saw you back.
And now I hear the house has been on fire, only days
after our sin, and no one knows how come.