‘Speaks true, who speaks shadows’

Paul Celan ‘From Threshold to Threshold’ 1955

For love is flesh, it is a
flower flooded with blood.
Did you think it was just a
little chat across a table?’

Marina Tsvetaeva ‘Poem of the End’, 1924

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it isn’t easy to speak true,
I am so fragile,
evasive,
a phantom

I can spin tales,
make you laugh,
enjoy your laughing,
honour your heart

inside I am screaming,
the child in the pram (me) is screaming,
surrounded by mayhem,
terror

yes, you say, but ….
(mindful of heresy)
that ….
I/you division is maya,
a mind-failure,
a cloud of ignorance

tell me that on your death-bed
or on my death-bed,
I will say yes,
it is true

speak true,
speak like this every day,
to everyone,
this heraldic moment,
in my/your last moment,
muster all the energy in that withered, bent body
to breathe, to speak in truth,
‘I love,
I forgive
and I am gone’

 

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