I DO NOT KNOW HOW

 

I don't know how to act.

That yet to be born orchard is dying, trying not to be lonely

when the sky falls to the ground weeping, but she won't bloom.

the seeds you scattered won’t give fruits for that obscured ignorance’s

unpolished and rough desire forces me to silence my conscience

and the loss remains latent, bleeding presence attracting colorless,

wrongly summoned, damned incoherence and the irony

used by time to play and have fun, caressing the ignorant hope

raving in agony. Is it loneliness the one that kills the seeded soil?

 

I don’t know how to love.

The tanned skin by heat and sand takes refuge in a crystalline dream,

The water dries. Where does it travel? And before the sun’s radiant thrust

the dream burns and evaporates, and the sole reflection of your lips,

your eyes, your smile, get lost in the sand.  How long will the desert

have to wonder till the damage is overcame? Dried patience stands

waiting for the dream to come back, and the mirage to return to the wind,

so I can be more tolerant with destiny that persists in going no more.

Is loneliness the one that evaporates the backwater?

 

I don’t know how to desire.

If only I could slowly approach to my yearnings’ root,

and plant in there a refuge allowing me to act when the sky sleeps,

I could eagerly stop the desert’s wondering and clean, from

the skin, all that sand which by leaving wounds cuts through

the ignorant hope that  remains in agony, staying delirious.

Why don’t you rescue me? If only I could abandon the orchard

that is dying without blooming… If only I could finish with the road

that the desert has for destiny… If I could learn to act, love, desire.. don’t know how.

Is my loneliness to be blamed for not knowing how?

Author's Note

Any comments are welcome