By Dilan Qaidr
Wait for hands to extend from walls
to beckon you to go beyond borders. From your window,
listen to a song by a ladybird
telling the story of chaotic waves of the sea.
Do not hurry to leave. You are only running away from yourself.
Wait some more.
Learn the language of those guests
whose names you will forget and whose laughter
you will register.
Water the flower vase on your piano with the rain of your fingers
and waltz the keys with your breath.
On late winter afternoons, those blurry moments
that are like grey fog inside the head of a jealous lover,
turn off the lights and dust off your mother’s fractured glass lamp
and light it, light it up soon so that the demons from the dreams
would not besiege you and smother you.
Do not embrace life with their lies,
do not close your eyes when you enter the city of the blind
or you will get lost,
too much is said, and all of it is needed, maybe.
Truth is nothing else than playing with sand, and there where you see
a sand house, take some water with you.
a time will come when the fields forget how to walk,
the mountains split from their shadows, the waters burst into flames
and bones race among us. Wait for a second
and fill up your chest