in another country

in another country

 

 

squandered words

i stuttered through dreams of you

poetry was a foreign language

and i a lonesome traveler

visiting your lips when i could

holding your essence close

 

but my ticket was to an away place

you could not follow,

and life finally finds voice

even when the syllables formed

 

are just past thoughts

translated into

wondering why they mean more now

than they did then

 

poems are my way of reversing fate

even if it is too late,

in some small way,

they take me back to you.

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

12/12/17

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

I like the heft and depth of your mind in rooting out something of wisdom about life.

Regards,
Al

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Al.
j.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Very insightful and profound work. Poetry stanches the wounds and releases the pain that life inflicts. Masterful metaphor- love is a foreign country with an inscrutable language. “Poems are my way of reversing fate”- brilliant, deep, resonating...truth.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Annette.
j.