Berlin

Berlin

Freitag, 1. März 2013

I don't know




I don’t know this woman
who was called my mother
once in a world so far away
from me, my body does not remember
anything anymore. No longer can
I walk into the unknown

there is nothing. The “I don’t know” is unknown
to me. No secret left. How to be a woman
was nothing she taught of course. I can
no longer draw her name: Mother
into a circle of burning colours, away,
the ocean near, somewhere I remember

I was before. I don’t know what I remember
from all those years in an universe unknown
not familiar at all. Run away
stranger, swim to another island, woman
of water, woman of tears. Be a mother
at last to the stones. I don’t know, if you can

hide in the bushes any longer. If you ever can
know who you are, truly, remember
the depth of a truth, your name, I don’t know, my mother,
the urge to find you is gone. May you remain unknown
to me, less pain. For sure. I don’t know! Any woman
could be her, even me, and she could be far away

standing in front of me. A land of no meaning, away
away from every touch, ever so slightly can
I feel the brush of her soul on my skin. I remember
her, a wounded walled in woman
always withdrawing from everything. Unknown
remains this world to her, hiding in the middle, my mother

could be, for all I can say, a mermaid really, a woman
living under water, far away, in a world unknown even to
herself: mother, tell me, is what I remember really you?



(Sestina February 19th, 2013)

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