I don’t know to whom I can write this
letter
But I am still
writing it
Because daytime has brought me a waft of
smell
To which I
return
Because a sleeve looked out at me
Through dark
transparence
And mumbled an unknown tongue
And I drifted
towards a lean smile
Which I couldn’t still name.
I could feel the heart throbbing within her
And knew it that it was mine and her’s
and every ones.
Every body with
an extra heart
Beating against themselves
Everybody with a pounding lion gnashing
against the cage
It was no more possible to keep out the
wild
Because the animal in you would no more
take it
This making of a robot out of living
beings.
If it were a crime to love
I would still do it
Because it was all that made sense to me,
And I know that it is so to many others.
If a pang was not felt by you
What will come of it
And what would someone
Who had nowhere to rest but a heart’s
cavities do?
There were
dried and broken feet
A bit dirtied
That needed some rest
There were eyes that were falling shut
And dried lips
that wore a bruise.
Who will put a balm on it
The near one or far one
Or the one who passes or the one who
doesn’t.
The fat one or the lean one
The tall one or the short
Because love came in all sizes and shapes
Whatever one needed to say
And
had left unsaid was filled in by the silence
Or sometimes by
a birdsong
Or from my
minds limitless wandering
That cannot but
come to this
Because a closeness could never be stopped.
Every wall a- crumbles,
Around each
closeted compound
Whether of kings, courts or houses
Because we need
them no more
When the people
Are united in love
And nobody wants it to be curbed
But would like
hatred to be
And the business of the high and low
(If you don’t
shave your brows
There is every chance that you may become
high-brow here!)
-But then you know that if you do that
Your identity is lost
And along with it a few threads.
