this morning I didn’t think about you darling…
i’ve done nothing…
how does a snowdrop pierces the snow,
and does fennel suffer when presenting her smell,
does the touch of my tongue, hurt you?
while your gaze can read my inner soul’s lies and truths
how can your hands still touch my skin…
didn’t think any of it, didn’t think nothing this morning…
in the redness of the night, as if stretching her head like a new rose bud,
like one little bird falling from a rock,
into a big hollow…
eternal hollow.
i have let myself in to it
for all those times, I have left it empty, on purpose
left it empty and protected it
i’ve took the hollow emptiness and patched it
to the eternal emptiness in its time…
i was the water at night…
one little drop
naked…
then disappeared…
the time of the moon…
exactly where you are looking…
i’ve had let go of myself
i am the sea
enter me…its time.

Günsel Djemal-13/1/2009-London