Details |
Awdawdawd Dwadwadwa Poem
1
Puddle, swallow me in your
archaic and gracious depths.
I’ve been roaming through
my city and its veins
with no oceanic nor
dry eyes to salute to,
with no raw rapid river nor
traffic sign to guide me.
2
Their gods are angry at me,
puddle;
they now know -and not before- I have mocked
their rituals and broken their now transparent
and blood-ebon core. They´re angry at me,
puddle.
3
Release me from my self-put chains
Release me from these empty bonds
of mine,
from this modern and boring-to-watch Greek tragedy.
Save me, puddle;
sing to my haze under the red coldness
of the moon
and to my solitude under the fire on the petrified
willow.
4
I often walk through destroyed
statues,
with flesh and vines
touching the new light,
parasites of the old shadow
upon them.
I stare, and the copper-covered statue
blinds me with the reflection
of the wicked
sun
through the tortuous
morning mist.
5
There are
only
my dreams
in the mist,
and
my silhouette
dressed
as a man.
6
Please puddle,
let
my feet
touch gently
your first drops,
and so on
until
my figure
is wet
in the ocean
and
my neck
is hanged
from
the sky.
I’ll be able to swim towards the calm shore,
and rest in that land,
in the half-wet half-dry sand,
in a pain-free limbo.
Time will pass by,
and I will have forgotten
my human cover.
But just after my eyes clarify,
I will be forced to leave
the snow that had surrounded me,
and I will have to return to my core
and to the chaos I lived in.
And even if chaos won’t let me do it,
I will keep
trying to kiss it.
Copyright © Awdawdawd Dwadwadwa | Year Posted 2013
|