101. Rain

Cleanse the Earth, rain;
feed the parched crops,
the sunburned acres.

Drive the men and women home,
send them driving home in cars,
in buses,
running with newspapers
wrapped around their heads;
send them back to the ones they
love.

Wash away the scent of Wednesday night’s
perfume,
wash away everything, rain,
until there is simply the rhythmic
sound
of water dripping down the eaves
and blood coursing through my
spellbound veins.

100. Zdes’ khorosho

It’s lovely here:
the sky is blossoming into
night;
it’s hard to believe
the close of day could be so
iridescent, wonderful.

It doesn’t matter that
I love you or
you love me;
the sun has not yet set,
but the moon lifts high upon the
silken skies:
and as you laugh,
creases form around your
molten eyes,
and I smile too.

No, nothing matters but this
lovely moment,
that I love you
and that you are here with me.

http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=5860

99. after

After we die,
our parents continue making
grocery lists;
the ones we loved
take long walks in the
forest with their
lovers,
and our friends wonder
how we became
a statistic.

After we die,
the world still moves on;
people, too, keep moving in their
predictable paths.

If I were still
alive, I suppose
I would still be
spinning, rotating.

But I wanted to be
free,
I wanted to create
something.

Stupid thing,
is what I was told
I was
when I still lived,
until I accepted it.
Yes,
I am a stupid thing,
I could do everything but
none of it
right

There was no
funeral.
I lay in the place I
died,
hand outstretched,
eyes gazing at the
mid-day sun.

Finally,
I had the courage to look
straight at the
sun.
People always told us,
don’t look at the sun
directly; it’ll
hurt your
eyes.

But I dared to look,
I tried to live.
Life was simply not
meant for
me.