Poem – The Silvering (By Henryk Baranski)

The Silvering

 

I AM LIVING

WITHOUT MIRRORS

WITHOUT THE VIEW

OF RIGHT AND

OF LEFT

 

I KNOW NOT

IF MY BEARD IS SHORN

IF MY HAIR IS KEMPT

IF MY COLLAR IS CLOSED

 

I STEP DOWN

FROM BATHROOM

TO HALL

 

AND SEE ONLY

THE FRONT DOOR

WHICH, ONCE OPENED,

 

EXPRESSES THE FREE

SUN AND WIND

UPON MY WET FACE

 

AND DRIED KNEES

AND ACHING NECK

AND SALTY HANDS

 

IT IS THE REFLECTION

OF OLD TIDES

THAT PASS UPON

MY FIGURE

 

AND AS I LOOK BACK

I SEE THE GILDED

REFLECTIONS

 

OF AN EMPTY HOUSE.

 

[su_henryk_baranski]