THINGS ARE HALF BAD, THINGS ARE HALF GOOD

Painting by Orestes Bouzon

Some words rusted in my mouth

as the past insinuated itself

behind the shadows and the dust

in my invincible dark room.

Can't remember when anger

started to simmer in the kitchen.

Maybe it was before my dead skin

flaked away.

As you speak,

you touch my unanswerable anger,

my unanswerable love

and I still don't know

whether love created anger

or anger created love.

The days are too short for me.

It is impossible to move effortlessly

through life.

It is hard to forgive.

(What is forgiveness for those

who can't forgive themselves?)

I feel courage fails me

as I shepherd my eyes

toward yours.

Things are half bad,

things are half good

and I can't be the change

I expect with care.

An unpractical love affair

with myself might be all I need.

While I doodle, still devoted to

what is gone, still dedicated to

what is impossible to save,

I wonder if I should save myself first.

The road is long

inside me.

I chase my crutches.

Can't walk anymore

without the support of my heart.

(I choose the thorns:

it is comfortable to bleed among roses)

Tomorrow

I will wake up one day older

and without any user's manual

to help me to live

or rebirth.

And you...

Oh! You will be just an unobservable mystery.

Karla Bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011