her touch – always a procession
of feelings that won’t leave her heart,
of everything she doesn’t have or even want words for.
i hold back her hand and it all quiets down-
the waves, the death, the crashing planes,
and the flying roofs.
the cities in her mind grow silent.
they- the tiny inhabitants, the ugly parasites
in her heart,
they look at me as if i am an enemy,
and yet smile at me, as if i am one of them.
they wait for her to smile at this, which she does.
she tells me she is fine. in the same tone
in which i use to tell her the same lie.
she leans in and touches my cheeks.
now it is my turn to go silent.
now my cities and their helpless monsters wait
to see where she leads this madness to.
The mountains I must scale
and the currents I must swim against
are all in you.
Love has nothing to do with
me wanting to know the storm you have become.
I find myself the reason
of your flooded cities of hope,
the chaotic streets of your mind.
I refuse to leave you alone in this disaster,
even after knowing
that my departure is the only way to
quieten the commotion in your life.
Love has nothing to do with my selfish wish
to stay by your side.
“The people of the world run about excitedly as if they
were going to miss the yearly, royal, sacrificial feast,
or as if they were going to be the last one
to climb a high tower on a beautiful spring day.
I alone remain quiet and indifferent.
Unoccupied by worldly cares,
I move forward to nowhere.”