Tag: meditation

i exist
and don’t
exist
like a scar
i am both
a memory
and an omen
like fragrant flowers
hanging on the gate
of the cemetery
or a tombstone
with loving words
written by those
who are no longer
around
to remember
their dead

my lover
and I met
in a garden
of lemon trees

in a field of lavender
we had our first kiss

my lover
and I sang
in the vineyards
made love
among sunflowers
and we cried
where hyacinths bloom

my lover
and I grew
wherever
there was soil
to hold our roots
and when we died
in the winter
our bodies
gave birth
to spring

Because of you
I now walk the streets
like a lost man,
these streets
that knew me so well
and called me by name once.
The windows stare down
at me with pity,
and the street dogs
get out of my way.
Because of you
I now walk
in the shadows
of buildings,
the sunlight
bends around me
so it doesn’t
have to touch me.

I have heard
your name
in the wind
on the mountain tops

I have heard it whispered
by the leaves

I have heard it
in the deep voice
of the rumbling rivers,
and in the softest
footsteps
of foxes
in the bush

Everywhere I go,
they speak of you
as if you are
the only sound
that defeats
the silence

Remember when
we you took me skipping
on the clouds
above Palermo.
That day
your dress
nearly got caught
in the antennas
as you jumped
from rooftop
to red rooftop.
Then we stopped
to catch our breath
when
in the distance
church bells
burst into the wind.
It was a wedding.

every night,
when darkness
swallows the day
in a single
mouthful,
i swear to you
by every breath
between my first and last
that i will carry you
in my arms
high above
the other dreamers
all the way
to the sun
so both of you
can be born again
at dawn