the following are pieces of poetry that i have collected in my journal throughout the past few months.
her mother looked her
in the eye
and whispered of her greatness
.
her mother looked him
in the eye
and asked for her secureness
.
her mother looked her
in the eye
and warned her of his greediness
.
her mother looked him
in the eye
and despaired over his recklessness
.
her mother looked her
in the eye
and wished for some form of forgiveness
.
but her eyes —
her eyes, now
are closed.
(s’ecraser)
you stopped getting your hopes up
i wanted to grab you by the shoulders
tightly, squeezing until you understood.
.
but i couldn’t.
.
you stopped getting your hopes up
(l’amant)
a sigh passes through your lips.
a word gathers behind her lips.
one
your eyes, shifting, look to the clock.
her eyes, steady, haven’t strayed from the clock.
two
there is an essence, a touch of dread in your mind.
there is an essence, a touch of finality in her mind.
three
she stands.
you flinch.
“there’s nothing to say, then,” she says, strong.
“there is far too much to say, now,” you think, weak.
(temps)
i see that you’ve built your house out of
sticks and mud and time.
i see that you’ve built your life out of
rigidness and order and time.
i see that you’ve built your mind out of
fears and worries and time.
i see that you,
you will last
and sticks will break and mud will crumble
and rigidness will slacken and order will crumble
and fears will fade and worries will crumble.
but you, now,
i see you have built yourself out of
time.
you will last.
(célèbre imperméable bleu)
in palms and fingertips
in crinkles by mouths and eyes
in stumbling
(la beauté est…)
“rush,” the river says
“and do not think to look back.”
and i rushed forth
.
“quiet,” the river says
“and do not dare move your lips.”
and i was quiet.
.
“weep,” the river says
“and do not hide your worries.”
and i wept and wept.
.
“live,” the river says
“and do not fear for the end.”
and i, then, did live.
(mère)
claire b.