To P.J.
My beau is a river,an endless fog rolling down behind the mountains,
purple thunders in night sky are her kisses.
I wake up under the beating
from glistening troops of souls in the valleys.
barks of human chants in dogs chests are lonely in the alleys;
in this ocean shimmer of bodies.I am just one more.
Rain is the best music for the senses of the lost lady in me crying.
Black birds are the best companion for my heavy shoulders.
Nor balconies or rocks from rivers can't stall my walking wounded,
The branches cut the air like knives of blackness.
but nothing
can
force
the strength of the sea,
because,
the sea
is
one
of the edges
of this world.
Knut Ekwall - Ingeborg watches her lover depart
