Soon again I'll be home,
Home that's no longer home.
Soon I'll be back where
I left off and I began.
I will circle the rooftops, and throw
my pigeons into familiar skies,
But my pigeons will not return.
Soon I'll be back in my room
That's no longer my room, for I
Have forgotten the color of its walls,
And it has renounced my smell.
Soon I'll be sleeping in your bed,
Like I used to when it was mine.
Soon I'll smile, and they'll smile,
And behind the teeth the distance will cringe.
Soon again I'll be holding your hands,
Looking into your eyes and remembering
Who you are and who I was...
(Originally posted on 17th June 2005 as "In Two Weeks")
Home that's no longer home.
Soon I'll be back where
I left off and I began.
I will circle the rooftops, and throw
my pigeons into familiar skies,
But my pigeons will not return.
Soon I'll be back in my room
That's no longer my room, for I
Have forgotten the color of its walls,
And it has renounced my smell.
Soon I'll be sleeping in your bed,
Like I used to when it was mine.
Soon I'll smile, and they'll smile,
And behind the teeth the distance will cringe.
Soon again I'll be holding your hands,
Looking into your eyes and remembering
Who you are and who I was...
(Originally posted on 17th June 2005 as "In Two Weeks")
1 comment:
Interesting, though not over the top, maybe because I read it as letter rather than as a poem.
When I used to sing in the choir, the instructor used to be especially harsh on the French-speaking girls because whatever French songs we had, they sang lousily; they were too familiar with the language to take it merely as sounds (as in Latin or German, for example), they understood the words too well. Thus happened here.
One last note; I found it especially interesting that you actually had to “remember” who I was. It holds water in a way.
Ton frère Ahmad
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