Friday, January 31, 2014

Words mar a silence once conjured by verse,
To speak or to hold back is the same wound.
Paradox of presence and absence,
This planet is too crowded for my heart,
Too blissful for a soul folded with yours.
You have caused me to become what I am:
Not a poem, but a living woman.
Breathing you in, unable to exhale,
You are nearer to me than my own thoughts,
And too far away for my bones to bear.

This is an untitled piece. I am posting it for feedback or discussion purposes, since it is an unusual direction for my writing to wander in. I was inspired to write it after listening to a lecture by Joseph Brodsky, while savoring his Leningrad (Piter) accent. I am not very happy with it, but I'll let it settle and then return to it.


Here--a photo of Brodsky without his glasses on--but with a cat.


2 comments:

bluestorm said...

i love this poem, Iulia - the contradictions we face in all our existence, the wondering, wandering, struggles of our minds and heart - beautiful verses!

Iulia Flame said...

Thank you -- it is imperfect, but I so appreciate you stopping to read it. xx

all is translation (and every bit of us is lost in it)

Rilke (Leonid Pasternak, 1900) Image credit to Wikimedia Commons GONG Sound, no longer measurable with the sense of hearing. As ...

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