Poems

Ceremonial robes

In the cold decayed
heart of these lands
I saw eyes.
Everyone was there with their voice
and pose of their body.
We know someone best while making love,
When we make our hearts decay together.
Growing heavy, our body
wakes us in the night.
Houses with courtyards are like graves.
Childhood is a long-lasting sleep.
A desire to touch
Drags us towards death
I tested myself in every body,
I lost myself in every city.
I took the skies of countries to my heart
and when I saw the emptiness of my heart,
I said, I must leave.
 
*
 
Inside the decayed robes of ceremony
roots swaying on the hanger.
Even if we drop fire in the sea
it will burn for ever,
it grants desolation to the dark,
It burns.
Perhaps history is a mistake says the poet
Human is a mistake says god.
Much later,
in a future corrupt as the heart of these lands,
Human is a mistake says god,
I’m here to correct it
but too late.
 
*
 
The wave of the deceased red tide
The road taken at night.
The poor earth where travellers are scattered.
The white swaying shrouds
are ceremonial robes.
The only thing needed for a race
is the horse’s mane.
This is the truth,
now we are here
left and rotted away..
 
 
May God not see the letters of my script.
Human is a mistake, he keeps saying.
And to correct his mistake
he gives sorrow,
nothing but sorrow.
 
 
February 1997 Berlin