Refuge

Layers upon layers of restlessness,

upon layers of unburnt stars,

of overheated supernovas

and overflowing dark matter.

 

Poetry,

is my only refuge now.

 

I can’t look myself in the mirror anymore,

no reflection is looking back.

Eyes are dried out – forgotten –

almost like dying stars

we only see in our dreams.

 

The rooftop has fallen

on us

and our dreams,

it has ‘2020’ carved on it

and its debris attacks the silence

while we laugh at our own jokes.

 

If only I had time to read more.

If only I had time to watch more movies.

If only I had time to catch up on my to-do lists.

Now there is time,

but no soul to put into it.

 

The sky is dark,

like the inside of my room.

Words escape my mouth

but bounce back at the walls around me

and enter my mouth again.

 

No sounds,

No world.

 

My jaw is broken now,

the lines are blurred,

and stars flicker above me

in the night sky.

They remind me that life

is like Silence:

You fee it the most

when it is the only thing you hear.


Photo: Nikon F75 (28-100mm). LomoChrome Purple, 100-400, 35mm film. Groningen, the Netherlands. May 2020.

That point between the shoulder blades

That point between the shoulder blades is
where pain sits and multiplies,
like millions of mosquito bites
it itches. Day in, day out.
You can’t lay down or sleep on your back.
You always have to keep your head down,
looking at the floor,
at the ground where
you took your first steps.
The point between your shoulder blades feels cold,
like icebergs have been formed there,
since the beginning of time,
without you knowing it.
But deep down you knew, all along
about the pain between those shoulder blades.
Now it’s part of you, you can’t imagine your life
without the pain.
Those icebergs never melt,
those mosquito bites never heal,
you need to keep your head down to the ground
and count the blessings in your heart.
And then the pain will transform
and the ice will start melting
while a hand is warming that spot
between your shoulder blades.

{Inspired by M. Oliver’s “When Death Comes” and that chronic pain between my shoulders.}

Photo: Leeuwarden, Friesland, June 2015. Minolta Dynax 7000i, Kodak Film 200, 35mm film.

At the window [Triptych “The Light”]

Those white moments flee

out of me

they fly in the sky

swinging among silences.

Sometimes my windows

define a square prison

dressed in sunlight and

straight lines.

The year of struggle seems vague.

The moments of solitude empty.

And my coffee is cold

waiting for me on the heavy desk,

life inside it has seized

arousing something more important

than a broken circle.

(Photo: Groningen, the Netherlands. January 2018. Lomo Instant camera, Instant Fuji Film.)

Through the nights

Lights are dancing on the walls at night,
flickering shadows talk to me.
The silence is too big to handle,
it suffocates us all in.
And the writing of it,
brings the sleepless tension back.
Can the past hear my whispers?
Can it read my lines?
Dropping love in the dark
I shiver.
I wouldn’t trade this silence for the world.
The morning’s light breeze
wards off the endless thoughts.
Keeping my mind busy
is all I can think of.

(Photo: Lights. Samsung Galaxy, Edited with VscoCam App)