Fragments of light
In the sea.
Fluid pieces
Like blood spilled that runneth over
And taints and stains pieces of my skin.
And suddenly I feel creation, all over again.
I become the lifeless Adam,
Touched by you.
I am now back on my native island, surrounded by the sea and
green fields.
The only noises are the waves and the wind on the trees.
Everything moves really slowly and I am resting with my sister
who is pregnant
And as happy as ever.
So many questions keep racing in my head
And I don’t know when I’ll know the answers.
It’s hard for me to understand that the months will pass and
You will be far away.
You have given me so much,
All of which I carry with me further on in my life.
Now I hear the distant thunder, I better move inside.
Within minutes it will start raining.
Fragments of me,
Divided by you.
Raindrops are fragments of sky,
Droplets of sea returned to me.
How different the world through shattered glass.
How different my heart from having loved you.
My mother cries,
At a distance she can see me in pieces,
A useless attempt to gather, and replace.
I sweep as she taught me,
I weep as I walk,
Her footsteps followed.
The light shattered.
The lamp fails,
Its nature distorted and destroyed by fragments of itself.
It’s funny how you noticed the different colors of the lizard on the
postcard. The first thing I
noticed was how he laid on his back, dead—or maybe resting. Why
do you think I noticed only
that he was on his back and not the colors that you immediately
saw?
I see how much you miss home.
I don’t know if it’s better to be in a place that reminds you of what
you love the most . . . or is it a heavy load on your heart to be
reminded of it so often?
Now that I carefully study the belly of the lizard, I notice the blue
of his belly and how it travels to the other parts of his body and
dominates the other colors, but his feet are without color and
they’re disfigured and it pains me.
The heatwave . . .
It is unbearable.
Right now I’m in a bathing establishment (only females).
The air is filled with high-pitched voices and laughter.
I have been fixing my bicycle all morning, and finally, I made it work.
I’m not a wiz with mechanics but my stubbornness brings out results.
I think of you often, I think of what I’ll show you . . . someday, when
I’ll be showing you around in my town.
How different the world through shattered glass.
How different my heart from having loved you.
The light shattered.
The lamp fails,
Its nature distorted and destroyed by fragments of itself.
I miss your voice.
Your laughter and clever comments on life and
Other causalities.
It’s past midnight; I’m at school, still working; though my eyes start
to fail.
I have coffee at my side, pushing and helping me along.
I think of you in the most peculiar moments and I enjoy it, though I
wish you were closer to me. But things can change quickly.
Fragments of me,
Divided by you.
Raindrops are fragments of sky,
Droplets of sea returned to me.
How different the world through shattered glass.
How different my heart from having loved you.
It’s Sunday evening, the sky hangs heavy on the city and
I am alone.
I feel trapped! My life is small and narrow these days.
Autumn is heavy and in my private life I am torn.
I miss you. I miss a lot of things.
Life goes on around me, people around me are getting married and
having babies, and I don’t want any of it. I want out . . .
I’m going to do whatever I want to. I wish so much that you were
here . . .
(I miss driving rented cars . . .)
How different my heart from having loved you.
A useless attempt to gather, and replace.
I sweep as she taught me,
I weep as I walk,
Her footsteps followed.
The light shattered.