Poezie

Mourning in Sepia

1 min lectură·7 mai 2011

Mediu

How many times can you die to me?

How many times must I mourn you?

Again and again, I kneel at your deathbed;

again and again, the hours plod

like plumed wailers hunching before a catafalque.

Again and again, I sway at your crumbling graveside;

again and again, a dull bird weeps

to the drone of my dry howling

by the deep-dug hole, where I feel the pull to plunge, bereft,

unbalanced on the sweetness of turned soil.

Again and again, I moan goodbye

in a faraway graveyard voice not mine;

in a crushed dirt-dry tremor

thrown from the strangled throat of grief.

How many times must I mourn you?

while you strut, square-chinned, loin-lit,

with life coiled like an about-to-strike

snake in your loins?

Oh, how many times can you die to me?

I am so weary, so tired

of my old mourning brooches;

of their sharp and lethal pins.

How many times can I pierce my own white breast

with the rusted darts

of this black,

this ebony

bleakness?

Oh, how many more times?

Can you tell me?

Oh, little brown bird,

can you tell me?

005.494

Philomena van Rijswijk. “Mourning in Sepia.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/philomena-van-rijswijk/poezie/13979452/mourning-in-sepia

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