In the background
Gazing at the yellow orange dress of my forested hills
readying themselves for winter’s coming,
I search for you,
no longer perching opposite me.
I remain in that past.
It is December, we sit together,
hours before my plane is to leave,
I still don’t know – at that moment – that never will I see you, hold you again.
I still haven’t realized I’ve lost you.
Outside the conference hall door
millimeters from you
with you for the last time
Why, my love. Why ?
It is all I can do: to ask why
On my window, a red sun
two lovers – are they ? – under a tree by the water.
You gave this to me
once, when you loved me
As Odysseus, held by the nymph Calypso,
unable to return to his beloved Ithaca, Penelope, Telemachus
I, too, am held by a past I cannot escape,
A prisoner of what once was, and what could have been
26 October, 2013