Riddle of Myself

Life in soundless shards,

Torchless escape from dusk of day.

Thousand voices form:

Ancestors weep the dirges of their weight.

Somewhere in their elegy a riddle.

They whisper when we are most alone.

This paradox: endlessly within us.

Paint it! They demand to be exposed.

Self-Portrait: metaphysical isolation.

They have left us. We are beyond the canvas.

I am Image on a Screen.

Self-Portrait: what has come before.

Pick up their vital frenzy, head quickly

For the door. They are filled with noise.

Self-Portrait: I am the eyes you sketched 

In the sheer light of silence. I am Solitude.

The rest is night.

Self-Portrait: pomegranates on the Caspian

Of blood to bud. Sing it to the sea.

Sing that song your grandmother sang.

Self-Portrait: I am Love, I am Lyric,

I am my grandmother’s song.

Homeland: lie with me. I am far away.

We are far away now, Mother.

Very, very far.