Atop of a white mountain
a voice recalls for some of us
(On the screen a planiglobe,
the Bible and an olive branch.)
The forecast weather is missing
and also the dove which returns
meeting with a land
not exhausted yet.
I’s true that until it will show up
we will still have a hot burning sun
far above our heads.
Without your fingers touch
the earth would have accepted
only half of my heel over it.
If your eyes were closing
only a half-circle was starry above
cutting obliquely my gaze.
Your lips sometimes too soft
abandoned so many words empty
and breathless between us.
While my faraway call for you
knocking on the unborn world door
was split into budding woods.
Looking into cylindrical mirrors
shadows disappear, meanings are revealed.
shaking our foundations,
grinding our hope seeds,
all that’s left for us
is to contemplate the endlessness
at least in order to remember
the fine weather from where
we were banished.
Note: Anamorphosis is a distorted projection or perspective requiring the viewer to use special devices or occupy a specific vantage point to reconstitute the image. The word “anamorphosis” is derived from the Greek prefix ana-, meaning back or again, and the word morphe, meaning shape or form. (Wikipedia). My poem was initially inspired by the painting “The Ambassadors”.
Until when, my God
will you be asking me to beg you
to grant me a more powerful poison
than that before it?
How much longer will I be counting rosaries
in which the last bead shines brighter?
How many seconds yet a bigger seashell
will swallow within her younger sister?
How many days shall I fast stronger
than the old hungry man earlier?
And God – until when a more tender Death
will fall down under sickle?
Alas, Love, eighteen years have passed,
Since you have made him destined for my eyes,
Since you have caught me in your heavy chains,
Which even rough stones couldn’t break or sway.
Though I admit: their sweet burden of links
I would not yield to throw it in the seas.
Do not oppress my life’s purpose, you, Love,
I’ve learned your silence and your roads by heart,
Just be a solid pier, not a seashore storm,
And let me look while waiting towards sky.
Or if my eyes would search for his again,
Let us to meet in my world without sound.