The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
I stay awake in the night
Chewing gum,
Spitting,
Chewing gum again.
I stay awake in the night
To write.
They say you have the whole day.
Yes you do;
A whole day
To listen to someone else,
To speak for someone else,
To be present for someone else,
To write for someone else.
But I want to write for me;
I want to write poetry-
Love letters to my own soul,
Music score for my heart.
So I chew more gum,
I spit,
And drink coffee again and again.
And I take a walk
Through the veins in my heart,
Through the misty paths of my soul.
The veins may be throbbing in flowers,
Or deadened by the cold.
The paths may be drawn over mountains with vultures
Or valleys with hungry wolves.
But I walk through
Without weapons,
Without maps, Without hope.
And I cry into my pillow
Or laugh at the bug hurling itself into the lightbulb.
I may lose a leg or kill a wolf;
But I never let the vultures or wolves kill me.
Broken
Or in one piece;
An adventure is an adventure.
And they don’t understand the joy I go through in the night
After taking a walk through my own heart and soul,
And writing a travelogue on it
In the form of poetry.
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