Wondering

 

Mihrab, Mosque of Cordoba (Spain), November 2012

Relentless I question myself,

even knowing there is no answer,

knowing the questions are not for me:

I am just looking forward to calming

the uneasiness about to overflow.

More questions:

Was this not an already closed chapter?

Why do I still come back to a steady pain

which is leaving such an indelible footprint?

I am hurting just being aware

of a dream which is over and gone,

one to which I still cling sometimes,

a dream apparently shared

which actually was a lonely one.

I am hurting for the memory

of what once was,

of what could have been:

it hurts waking up from a dream

I thought of as reality.

I hurt for the long hours of wakefulness,

for the long hours of company in my dreams,

for the many times I still wake up in despair.

I hurt for the memory of a destiny

shared, but hopelessly lost.

I hurt for the solitude needed

to overcome open wounds,

to heal memories and life.

And among questions, memories, pain

I wonder if I will ever be strong enough

to break this cycle,

to face this waking hour

with nothing else for company

but my inner abyss

and my words.