I waited longer than I wanted to
for our sign to show up in the woods,
a sign we had agreed on, you and me,
on your death-bed of green linen tree leaves.
Exactly then, when I would think of you,
an owl was to appear and say the word.
Magic might be possible for lovers.
I waited. Then I thought of you so strong.
But there was silence when I said your name,
before I heard the caw above my head.
So like you to send me a crow instead,
a mile too far and minutes overdue.
Once more the mirror puts me in my place
while skin is trying hard to camouflage
what’s left of once my body now I age,
but see, I shall not rage, I shall not rage.
Never mind the hollow eyes that stare at me,
and follow me in bitter silenced spite
across the room, where clothes and blankets lie
about our love. The mirror tells me why.
Still, when you come at nights and find me here
regret me not, forget me not. Love me.
I shall not understand you and your choice,
as long a whisper will be in your voice.
He gave me some flowers that were taken
from a grave he just happened to pass by.
When I asked about it, he didn’t say why.
In return, I made him eggs and bacon.
He would eat spiders if that impressed me,
and said one day I’d make someone a good wife.
We were friends in that stage of my life
when spiders were such scary things to me.
He would dance on the stickiest dance floor
if that was what I liked to do, he would,
and ate the rubbish I served and called food,
he asked me afterwards if I had more.
I sometimes see him working on his farm.
He doesn’t dance no more, he wouldn’t harm,
or eat a spider if I asked him to.
One time he saw me and a moment long
I watched him dancing, smiling, heard our song,
and for a moment I was dancing too.
Every line in this story has a meaning to spot,
makes a new horizon in what it might say,
each skyline under a new leading,
each phrase gives more away
bringing questions, that
are heading for the plot.
I want to know the end of the story
but I don’t want to finish the book.
While thinking of you I came across shapes
never seen before, images in ice,
in clouds. As if all the world wanted me
to remember you in more than the truth.
But ice will melt and clouds will drift away.
Your memory won’t find me in the end.
Nothing of what we were about, will stay.
Like a captain on a ship that is about to sink
I see you standing in a mist,
and you have eyes that know.
I think your eyes matter the most. And hands.
The captain stays on board. All others go.
The sea takes all, and closes silently
over the wreck the ship is now.
I see you. The mist is getting dense, but there
you are, a last glimpse and I know you’re gone.
We both say a farewell. It is all done.
Maybe I should not stay in Winter nights
outside in silence, while everyone sleeps,
to linger long, watching the cobalt skies.
Maybe I should not try to understand.
Indoors is warmth and when the door is shut
I can pretend the world is just our house.
But here, in magic snow I’m more at home,
in Winter nights under the cobalt skies.
There are more questions in those Winter nights
than stars, and many shine, but why they do
will always stay a mystery, unsolved.
I stand under the cobalt sky and wait.