Friday, March 30, 2007

To she who wants to be the sea

be the sea

but have you
known the wind

gently caressing the sea
to roll her hips in waves

tormenting her with ecstasy
to make her roar and destroy

bringing her the flavour
of songs of the desert
wrapped in the scent
of a lonely little flower
who shared his bed
and still stood tall

Lulling her to sleep
with stories of spirits
who put him in a bottle
for their dead to sip
as they roam the peaks
in the mind of the walking dead

so have you
known the wind?

and have you
shown the wind

not your waves
your smell of salt and fish
not your moves
your dance of mind and flesh

but have you
shown the wind

your bright dark depth
songs made of colours
scent of gentleness
so very intense
and the power to smother
volcanoes that erupt?

have you
taken him in a bottle
stolen from the spirits
deep down inside for him to see

the tentacles of octopus
painting tattoos on your thighs
with distilled pain of the world
brought to you by the rivers?

woman, would you be
the real sea?
would you at that moment
break the fragile bottle?


MORGANA said...

Tan bello como el mar, la botella viaja por el interior de nosotros.

Sai Kothai said...

superb, superb, your poetic intensity riseth day by day. who's the muse that causeth this stirring and excitement (if there is any such word) of the soul? :-)

i recall e.e cummings when i see the shape that the poem conjours.