بئر الكلام

The words that melted in the gasps of hesitation

and faded in our mouths

before they could see the light

or be caught by the wind,

will grow until they become a tree

that a passerby from any time can take shade under..

Or it could become a sidewalk for the homeless

and an icon for the strangers of time..

*

The words that we cannot grasp

could have been made into a vase

to which we would offer a morning greeting with a red flower..

We could have taken a little of it

and gone to the jeweler

to turn it into a necklace..

Or we could have colored a white canvas with it

as Salvador Dalí used to do.

*

The words..

that slipped away

and mingled with the passing air

we can no longer retrieve,

they could have been many things

or we could have been something else

other than what we are..

“As usual”

in the evening

we draw the day with rosy cheeks

and a gentle smile,

then we cover ourselves with our dreams and sleep

eager for its arrival..

We wake on the thresholds of dawn,

waiting for its first threads

as they climb the darkness,

but -without knowing what happened to it-

it comes as usual, disgruntled..

“Wait”

I watch a star hanging in the evening,

I watch it every night

as it approaches

to come closer to me,

but -every night-

it retreats back

to leave me in another wait..

* * *

The star sleeps

but I

do not sleep,

I think about what it would have said to me/

about the secret that it chose me specifically

to be its well..