Relationships are strange things: elastic,
Inexorable. Meshing graceful flesh
Or mingling minds-
Lovers or friends
Fantastic or commonplace.
One week there is fire and so much meeting-
Spells and magic spill into what is fleeting,
Is ordinary. Talk comes fresh bubbling.
There’s a dash of sun in the hours’ brief flare.
A phone rings, an e mail pings, little joys sing,
There is grace in the pace of the day,
In the fashioning of small things.
Then when a glow seems nicely burning,
Warming: it’s off at the source.
Power cut. Or comes juddering
Sporadic, erratic. And who can tell why
Or where the electrical fault is
Or whether indeed there is one at all.
But the bulb is flickering, shuddering.
Darknesses last. Silences jut into minutes.
Fire becomes ash.
Doors shut or do not open so often
And suddenly
the everyday
is grey again.
Awesome, inspired writing - its an experience that is so familiar, so universal, and so disappointing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have such a different way of describing things. How do you do it? (You needn't answer) .