you must go beyond the wall.
at least once, at least one step. with your bleeding nail
you must carve out a little hole in the brick,
your eye must at last catch
a glimpse of the other side, before being blinded
by the pouring down of the golden hour.
i know.
tomorrow i will put on my golden dress,
fasten my hair with a golden ribbon, the whiteness of my shoulders
aglow in the setting sun, as i cross over, into the golden sea,
as i conjure the golden fin, kneeling down
to pray for the deepest cut, for yet another
spear of light.
i know.
before that first and last wave of gold sweeping through me,
nevertheless, let me sit here, quietly, for a while. let me know of nothing but the
humble solidity of this wall, its barren geometry enough
to make peace with necessity,
whose circumference traces the outline of what one would call 'life',
my life and yours and, don't forget, the life of these branches
as well, moving restlessly in the dry wind, the life of these shadows crawling
upon the bare face of the land. let me breathe here,
for yet a while longer, my gentleness expanding
into the gentleness of the hour,
my body draped only by the rhythmical unfolding
and receding of a soul, wishing for nothing,
knowing of no beyond.
.
