2011. június 11., szombat

Orphead (for Father, as if to consummate)

mother night
sitting by your bed
sitting by your bed
soft dark hands enfolding your world
the great gate
had not yet closed
the eye winking still

I smiling
concealed my tears
from your winking eyes
the great book had not yet closed

and liquids seeping
liquids dripping
in thin transparent tubes
like sap through newly formed roots
but you did not drink it up all
the trunk didn't hold water anymore

I start at the thought
of my hands reaching for your black wintercoat
my hands reaching for your coat
always clean and carrying a scent of spring
along the darkening road
the trees bend together
the birds huddle together
the eyes of the night are opened wide

mother from a faraway place
weeping into the gap
(even before the gap would open she wept
even before the sign of the gap would open
she who never weeps wept)
mother from a faraway place
carressing your face
from a great distance
in the cave-black silence of the night
the night with many eyes

we all fell into your merry dream of life
and then you were woken out of it

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