Much regret can one carry –
up a hill, through the streets of a city,
by bus, hidden, in brown checkered suitcases,
a bright pink rucksack,
little black purses, ( a body bag, a coffin ) –
for years pushing and pulling the load,
the burden of a lifelong guilt.
Much remorse stays in one’s heart,
grief travels with us, unseen luggage
to places where we want to forget
but we won’t; we notice
how the smile of old people
is cracking their faces:
we feel the skin break in pain.
Much, too much we want to carry on,
beyond our limits, absurd snails
we are, moving slowly
until we forgive ourselves,
until we let go of the weight,
and make decisions.
Until we dare to do so.
A clear day made me see beyond blue,
water reflected a deepest sky.
I could see forever through and through.
There I rested and felt calmer too,
like so often with the sea nearby.
Without a search I found something there,
my mind was rinsed of bother and pain.
The silent sea and the soothing air,
an inner strength I had not been aware,
gave me the power to restrain.
The water wrinkled as thoughts returned,
it shivered, a cloud hung over me.
The vision went, not sure what I discerned
nor what the lesson was I learnt
I walked away, and let it be.
But years from then my memory knew
as I stood on the quay to watch the sea.
The vision came back, I saw what to do
to let go of my thoughts. The Northern wind blew
and brought the clearness back to me.
Can I dance a bit longer, tip toeing
through your language, the beautiful, the best,
carefully omitting, waltzing right over
obstacles like grammar or rightful use,
tense, dialect and pronunciation?
My mouth uses different muscles and my
voice now moves from another, less lazy
position. Whenever I speak English,
I feel my tongue doing body building.
Unaware of its gems, I pirouette.
The floor a shining new adventure, no
barriers from the past to tell me how
to do tangos here, I dance my own dance
while every sentence is a new sunrise
and every movement as old as the world.