Without another way back, drifting on
surrendering clouds, you fall back
in Heaven’s disguises – disguising hope,
dragging you down from eternity’s rope.
Where leaves are falling from your mouth,
bandages loosening from your throat,
I am kissing dreams back into nightmare,
to leave you a familiar trail.
Backtrack all those empires you fell,
from those slaves who did build
what your eyes will discover in a weakness
within a man’s heart of stone,
softened if only to leak waters
to quench your drowning lungs.
Refreshed at sunrise, refreshed at what
you will repeatedly disguise
under your tongue where words are sore,
where heartbeats are kept
like corpses that fall to a wooden floor,
once as angels one with Heaven,
abandoned here, when floods of cruelty
has no door to close from its entrance.
I am all those wounds, once more
to hear your aching voice,
building a bridge to receive you
from another end to that door.
Modern Romanticism 