Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

November 26, 2013


My love, you are free.
Stay away from your own
funeral; sing no dirge
but for those unlike you,
for you still are, you.
I cannot even contain
you in one person,
that's how free you are:
I see you in my sister,
the eyes of our mother,
beholding my lover
as one she once knew,
or never did but saw
in her own mother's eyes.
Yes, there are ghosts,
and we can be cursed
or blessed seeing them
in each other. That's how
free you are, and I am:
we can dance between
bodies effortlessly now.
I know you feel this too
for I feel you feeling me
feeling you feeling me so
certainly there's more
than just the two of us
now; no, you were not
so simple when we met
for I was, we both knew
then, so many more than
just one of us. As you are
to me, too. All of my love
for freedom, intertwined
and impossibly scattered.

Posted by Delire at November 26, 2013 12:18 PM