18.8.11

Merely human


photo: Elif Karacok

I gave in to your plea,
And replaced you with verse.
I am chanting sonnets on life-gone, and hope-not,
I am befriending maxims that could soften the pain,
I am reciting all shocks,
I rehearse acid rain.
But,
to a poet,
I can’t give you away. I just can’t.
To the poetry, I can.
To a poet,
I can’t.

I gave you the keys
To a bright set of days,
Short of lies and pretence and entire of free ways.
I exchanged your sweet touch with new books on the shelf,
For your mornings alone, born again to yourself.
I became the worst traitor to heart and to soul,
For your freedom concrete, undisturbed, new and whole.
But,
to a free spirit,
I can’t give you away, I just can’t.
To your freedom, I can.
To a free spirit,
I can’t.

I gave you the codes
to true colors and scents,
I came up with new senses,
Made for you and enhanced.
I was nailed to my faith, did the deed and then, left.
Now you have your own means,
you don’t need my palette.
I gave you up to creation I surrendered to art
But,
to an artist,
I can’t give you up. I just can’t.
To creation, I can.
To an artist,
I can’t.

I gave in to your will
And erased all my needs,
I escorted out hope and I much love you still,
Turned my half to a whole, far from you, with your thought,
From respect to your truth, what is ‘You’, mine or not.
Passed you on to the world, all the seas, all of land.
But,
to a face,
I can’t pass you on. I just can’t.
To the round world I can.
To her round face, I can’t.

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