your visage
sculpted of peanut butter in full sun
your traits melting under weight of years
your wrinkles sliding under a frown
stranded under gravity
waiting for me on the quay
no you never cry
your creator lacked talent
mine romance
I write the scene anew
in order to replay your ego
your pride lost under dust
the train arrives
my stomach slides
I retain the essential
under other skies
to my own rhythm
everywhere I replay you
I meet you mother finally relieved
under funerary ashes
-----------------------------------
Sous Ton Visage (Fr)
ton visage
sculpté de pâte d' arachide en plein soleil
tes traits fondant sous le poids des années
tes rides glissant sous sourcils froncés
tu gits là sous force de gravité
m' attendant sur le quai.
non tu ne pleures jamais
ton crèateur a manqué de talent
le mien de roman
et j'écris la scène de nouveau
afin de rejouer ton moi
ta fierté perdue sous poussière
le train qui arrive
mon estomac qui dérive
je retiens l'essentiel
sous d'autres ciels
à mes propres rythmes
et partout je te rejoue
je te rencontre mère enfin soulagée
sous cendres funèraires.
just curious, how was your relationship with your mom? Was she someone who never showed emotion?
ReplyDeletepoetry paints over reality in slow strokes to mask the holes and fill the gaps.
ReplyDeleteyou read it right. it's a cultural lack. i did not translate well..it's a language slack.
@Nadine, much like one can smooth a peanut-butter sculpture ,one may also smooth memories of battered relationships from the disquiet of the past into soothing ointment for the soul...no translation required.
ReplyDeleteRaymond, as i wrote this in french, i tilted my head in mournful regret after a trip home..when translated, much later, i had lost the impetus of forgiveness and empathy.
ReplyDeleteif i portrayed a wooden mind, i missed the hysterical quality and by-passed the needful tug of such relationships.
sadness sips into the cracks when i knew how to heal, and she knew how to suffer.