• Eygló Karlsdóttir

INDEPENDANCE (a poem)


I’ve forgotten who I was, And at this point in time I’m not sure it matters if I once jumped out of a car on a red light because the guy behind me had been tailgating me. Or that I used to laugh in inappropriate places, And that I always jumped out of bed as soon as I awoke, happily counting on the wishes, waiting impatiently on my nightstand, to be fulfilled.

None of these things matter now Because when I wake up in the morning I choose to be who I am And it is my decision who that is Dark roses, silver lights and dawn in my heart, It feels like that hasn’t been my call for a very long time, but now it is.

I see clouds outside my window One looks like a lion about to dance with a gazelle, graciously it bows and then devours her whole. Another looks like the handsome stranger I see him in everything nowadays, wether I like it or not. He is leaning against a wall with that look in his eyes As if he knows me Or has known me in another life Another place. He leans forward, his cloudbody dissolving. And then he is standing here Full of life in my minds eye As real as anyone And he walks towards me and asks me where I’ve been all his life I smile as an answer and put my hand on his cheek It’s an awkward thing to do with a stranger But he doesn’t seem to mind Just leans forward and dissolves into thin air before his lips meet mine.

No, it doesn’t matter who I was once upon a time I wake up every day and choose to be this me I am today And when I find that something I’ve been isn’t working correctly anymore cogwheels have gone missing, or the woodwork is rotting, I whisk it away into the air and it becomes one of the fluffy white clouds, floating in the sky. Like hopes that die a sad death when the moon comes up And are born again with the fiery glow of new light As good as new, the night sky is full of stars, but my nightstand is empty now.

No, it certainly doesn’t matter who I used to be I am those hopes I am born with each morning I am the glimpse in the strangers eye I am the word on an unread page An afterthought A storm cloud An apparition. And one day I will dissolve before my beautiful stranger like he dissolves before me but not until I’ve kissed him properly Like only strangers can.


#poem #poems #poetry

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