Poetry
I am looking for you under the roots of my heart
Like a retarded child who is afraid
Of stepping into the water who talks alone and moves his hands
“O my God grant that this water might not grind me like Your Mill”
I linger deliberately nearby autumn crocuses and willows
Let me watch over your shoulder
The road powdering and the grass greening
Without ever wishing for anything else than that
But God doesn’t mean love like this
“You shall go down inside yourself and I watch
Over your comings and goings You owe it to me to find
In the water of my glances the fallen hazelnut”
With faraway eyes like a border watcher
Sick with musing and whose senses are damaged
I gently dip my hands into the light
Without considering for a second pulling them out
Since I like to help a body that ventures
And seeks beyond its preferred form
The spectacle of a blind soul whispering
Along the stone wall of eternity. |
