Her Words My Print
It is her words at the center of it
I only print this as a tribute to it.
Here is the poem Deborah Guzzi wrote
Here is passion etched
On the edge of a note
Here is the sum of all our knowledge:
"Words are the balm of age
the gift of sage
when all flees and even the white of eye reddens with rheum
words fair words dispell the gloom
when hands are mapped with age and knarled still they transform the page
the eye
the cage
Words flow and mind goes to pristine smiles
and the smooth curves which once were thy
thy cheek
thy neck
thy hip
Deny me anything but the word for its magic will soon
be all that remains of fresh and new."
And here I am poor Sisyphus
With this eternal burden
Only from hell we dream of heaven
(The words of this poem are not mine alone, that of DG is encapsulated in quotation marks,
speaking to their centrality in my admiration).
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