Waiting for a bird to sing

The leaf waits for me
like a woman in love:
naked, eager, languid.

i am weak:
words are weapons
dooming me to be free.
i crawl listlessly
to poetry, hoping
for a new deviation.
but i lost something:
it is odd to notice
another macula.

there is no adjective
in english to explain
what's happening.
i can only say i feel everything,
i miss everything.

and it aches me
to comprehend the sacredness
of my pain, our pain.
the violence of the moment
makes my leaf curl
and at that point
i bend too rearranging
my heart's bookshelves
crammed with the poetry of life:
the one that has always driven me
to the tenderness of the crisp words.

karla bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2015 Photobucket

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