a knock on the door,
be it demon or angel?
i cannot bear
the suspense any more.
the knob cold in my hand,
the door sticks,
then jerks open...
nobody there, only shadow and wind.
crossroads and forks,
and hurricane damage.
the scar on my heart
bears your image,
and your name.
loves beats against
the window of longing
that your body fits
like clothes well worn.
we die again and again,
both in triumphs and loss.
would that i could die
in the box that holds your dreams.
and rest in sweet silence
neath the tree you've forgotten.
amen, and goodbye...
wait on the rain!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the scar on my heart bears your image, .................................... would that i could die in the box that holds your dreams. ........................................................ Very good Erik, I much like such thinking by faces... 10........... ts.