Harvest Moon

Many waters flew down in a row.

I couldn’t see my traces anymore:

barefoot child footprints, hoofs, wagon wheels

piling up like volcano cinders drifting in the wind.

People had a shrill voice,

a kind of old knife blade stuck in dry earth,

they were coming home with dust in their collars,

the moon’s craters were no more visible.

 

I began to drink water only from a spring source

carrying it at sunset in a cold pitcher

its shadow was trembling as I walked by

along with my too long shadow,

like two brotherly waves. 

 

For a time I stood close to the ground,

a butterfly wing on a broken earthenware,

feeling my heart growing bigger,

its walls withdrawing inside it,

a bulldozer overturning the rubble.

 

I was hardly breathing,

compressed by demolished bricks

detached from their foundation.

Like a well without chains

I couldn’t cry anymore,

all my tears were lost.

 

Around rooster’s wake up

two gray trains collided,

the passengers forgotten on a long list

in the church service

were murmuring,

dreams’ barrier broke below them.

It was raining again.

Reviews

[stardust X]

This poem reminds me of another time, another place...Truly beautiful!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Many thanks, I am happy you liked it.