notes on home III

A few days after existing
I dreamt
I was in a home
in the middle of the night
all alone
to trade my heart for a stone

I thought she would walk away
the cat
watching at my gates
but she has grown
under the moon she is my fear
under the sun she is my fire
now I can never leave my home
she would hurt me

Trough a shower of glass tears
I wander
keeping yours in my clenched fist
on the remains of ancient homes
I dance
with bare feet on shards
I hold on to the sharp edges
like you told me to
for a thousand years
until my body is painted sticky red
Who fathoms love?

My home will be the air
caressing my neck
as I drive on endless roads
with open windows
towards a burning horizon
with arms stretched out
to rescue all dreams
lost in the wind

Today I was sitting in the sun
and heard a woodpecker
tapping in a tree
unpredictable time
like an unsteady metronome

As I fall asleep
a small weighty home is placed on my chest
close to my heart
in which a mist is swaying
and its colours
becomes my art


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