Van Gogh
Endless sunflower field
Rhythmically swaying in the wind
Like lazy ocean wave stretches
To the distant line of horizon
Touching the edge of the sky
Melting into hot noon brilliance
Boiling all shades of yellow into
One burning brightness of sun
He walks fast towards the east
Then abruptly stops gazing at the sky
Licking his lips dried in the wind
His breath echoing the rhythm
Of sonorous palpitating heart
Then his eyes move to the south
He turns and runs towards the sun
As fast and as far as he possibly can
Till he falls on the ground breathless
Embracing green grass at the edge
Of a long narrow curved shaded path
He lays there staring at the space
Yellow sunflowers sway slowly
in front of his burning dry eyes
Color yellow sinks into the depth
Of his bluish eyes and transforms
Into deep green reflecting the sky
The color of pain deep down inside
He sees the bright sky going dark
In one instant becoming a violent
Turbulent cluster of stormy clouds
Have been chased toward the north
By the winds of the distant south
He sees myriads shining stars falling
Like a cool refreshing long waited rain
Covering his aching body with a cloud
Of relief that lifts the nagging pain
That burned his soul from inside
He lays in the middle of endless
Sunflower fields somewhere
At the very edge of the universe
Long day and torturous night
Till he wakes up and sees again
The sunflower heads swaying
High above in the sky for another
Hot hazy non ending day
He gets up and walks towards
The hey stacks neatly assembled
In cozy clusters that create long
Shadows of gentle evening sunrays
Women figures moving slowly with
Sad eye pools framed by tired faces
He sees the road with cypresses
Overshadowed by slowly emerging
Moon light shining on the right side
Zillions of stars spinning on the left
In a distance he sees long fields of
Dancing irises in whirlwind of purple
Intoxicating scent of fresh blooms
Reaches his nostrils and enters his brain
He feels refreshingly clean like a laundry
That just have been washed in the rain
He opens a weathered wooden door
To the night Caffe with orange walls
With yellow bright lit pristine floors
Brimful glass of aperitive in his hand
Stops the time in his exhausted mind
Like a restless soul lost in his own
Confusing unrecognizable world
He moves through the space and time
Till he reaches eternity gates
That halts him and evokes in him
Deep grizzly transcendental fear
He sits there on a little wooden chair
In a cosmic desert all by himself
Immersed in silence and sharp pain
Tortured by anxiety that never ends
Then he jumps and runs the other way
Without opening the eternity door
That he was tempted to sway
He runs through yellow landscape
With tall cypresses marking the path
Crossing blooming fields of Arles
Yellow color catches him and swallows
Then he finds with his eye’s blue fields
Of olive trees that bring a relief
But it doesn’t last long enough
Sorrow in a shape of a naked woman
Embraces him and holds him tight
With her bare strong yet gentle hands
Caressing his cheeks and comforting him
Till thick darkness of night sucks
His exhausted body into a deep
Coma like dreamless sleep
By the morning when darkness
Dissipates he sees wheat fields
And a sky covered with flocks
Of pitch-black cowing crows
Fast moving towards him
He jumps out of the bed and runs
Through the morning fields
Basking in bright warm sun
Passing peasants raking hay
Who stare at him like they
Just have seen a ghost
Passing visions blurs in his head
The window to dimly lit room
Wooden table and peasants eating
Plain meager potatoes soup
Yellow sunsets at Montmajour
Vast landscape going from bright
To muted dark with blue undertones
Long rows of tall cypress trees
Sunflowers laughing at him
Prostitute caressing his dry lips
With white long delicate fingertips
Pain that doesn’t go away
But stays inside and lingers
A knife with sharp blades
All mixes into fast changing
Kaleidoscope of images
In his feverish exhausted
Suffering mind
Then he passes out and wakes up
In a pool of sticky cold blood
Sharp pain cuts his head in a half
Bewildered he is staring at the mirror
Reflecting his wide open glassy eyes
He screams but he doesn't hear
His own voice splitting the space
And he can’t remember
Anything else
Copyright © Ruta Skendeliene | Year Posted 2020
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