The silence

The silence

Paul McCartney sings…
Sitting on the stand of the sports arena,
waiting for the show to begin,
red lights, green lights, strawberry wine,
a good friend of mine, follows the stars…

Suddenly the needle
slips off the record
and the music stops.
I wake up to
the sudden silence
that fills the room,
the creepy silence
of the grave.

I feel for
the solace
of my woman’s
warm body…
but none is there
on the bed,
except me.
Where’s she gone?

Once I told her,
together we will
follow the stars.
And she came,
walking behind me
to the dark roads
that lay ahead...
hoping someday
we will touch a star.
Where’s she now?

Maybe, she has
gone up and turned
herself into a star.
Maybe, the silence
knows everything.

Memory

Memory

It was 2am…
this time I heard it clearly,
the crying in the bathroom.
It was coming rhythmically
as if someone is playing
a low tune with a harmonica.

With a shudder,
I sat on the bed,
watching the bathroom door
in the semidarkness,
thinking that I am alone
in this big old house.

Again came the sound,
the sad wailing of what
I thought is a child,
and that sound was
vaguely familiar.

Then something
broke in me, and
the memory erupted
in my no longer
living sense.

I recognized my own
gasped crying of
twenty years ago,
when I drowned in
that bathtub made of
Chinese porcelain.

Where am I now?

Memory

Memory

It was 2am…
this time I heard it clearly,
the crying in the bathroom.
It was coming rhythmically
as if someone is playing
a low tune with a harmonica.

With a shudder,
I sat on the bed,
watching the bathroom door
in the semidarkness,
thinking that I am alone
in this big old house.

Again came the sound,
the sad wailing of what
I thought is a child,
and that sound was
vaguely familiar.

Then something
broke in me, and
the memory erupted
in my no longer
living sense.

I recognized my own
gasped crying of
twenty years ago,
when I drowned in
that bathtub made of
Chinese porcelain.

Where am I now?