The Wind Knows
Poem about a Poem
for a little boy
In the morning
just before raven
wipe their eyes with
the tips of their wings
and a rainbow stretches
from the green horizon
towards your window
over your house to another
horizon behind
dreams tiptoe away
a poem unfolds from
under your bed, creeps out
and asks: may I reveal myself?
A daydreaming poem
a poem about friendship and
cats, for example, about bright
things and the dark
about ghosts in the chimney,
the poem whispers
A poem made of voices outside
of your window, swaying over the field
whistling, piping, rattling
where the rainbow has just faded away
You hear laughter and sobs
the poem wants to tell about longing
and joy and hope and everything that is
important and cannot be said in sentences
with words put together like a puzzle into
a picture that everyone understands
By the way, no picture is understood
by anyone in the same way
So the poem crawls back under your bed
while you go to have breakfast
The poem will never be written
only you know the words and the voices
that you will share with the wind.
Written on the ferry from Dover to Calais, 29. October 2018
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| (c) Eva Wal, VG Bild |
