They say the other realm is one of spirit and someone does not need flesh as someone crosses away, yet when a chunk of my flesh was cut off my body, maybe you took it away from me, so you would have a part of me with you out there, until I will join too. If that is the case, I would gladly give you another piece of me, but do let me know if that is what has happened.
I feared I was just carved out… by losing you, I became a carrier of emptiness, crossing steps with people…
I am lost,
lost in translation,
lost in taking my sensations
and rendering them into images,
and then further
transgressing them into floating words
from behind my retina
taking the form of tears,
or the shape of moving lips,
or pressing my face muscles
into unconscious shapes.
I am lost,
lost in my own language,
with signs that barely reflect
my compressed self
between the past and the future.
I am lost like a fish full of life in a net of thin threads, my ribcage is dragged from within towards the wordless spot where waves fall…
in the beginning,
I was a dough ball,
round and self-contained,
waiting to be baked,
and to smell fresh and caramelized,
through the crackly brown crust,
showing off the art of artisan hands.
I wanted to get through the oven
I had no patience
to wait there,
under the tea towel,
where the muffled sound
of the wall clock
could be barely heard.
I had no shape yet although I could envision one until it finally happened: I was expanding inside the Dutch oven, knowing that the heat was there for me, to make me grow into a definite…
Psychologist | Literature addict | Animal and cycling lover| Struck by poetry