Poetry: what keeps me going. more or less.

By: Natasha Aidoo

if you knew the lengths 

I’ve gone through to be here. 

in this precise instant.

to be crying in my bed. tears end up in my ears.

there’s a slavic term for it. i don’t recall it.

to hold onto music with all of my being.

feeling so much while soaring 

laying in a meadow

in spring. 

the bright blue light of a dawn

that stretches on the beach,

a glimpse of saudade. 

these tears are soothing.

they differ from the ones i couldn’t stop,

that needed to escape your soul.

you spat them out. 

twisting freedom. 

Cocteau Twins bring me back. 

i become weightless and 

in harmony with the cosmos.

the ritual that transforms my mornings,

cereals and Slowdive.

I wink at their sound. at my somewhat pindaric flights.

stumbling fragile creature

with winged eyes and stone fragments in her pockets.

I jump on the volcano. lava refreshes my desires.

holy sanctuaries on the ceiling.

most thoughts unravel in intricate fantasies.

morph the language in a twinkle.

silhouette frozen on the scene 

while euphoria leaks from her eyes. 

my love has never been. 

a bittersweet realization 

that echoes in the dark.

gomitolo* in orbit, flee with the letter.

I’ll take you in my dreams. 

I’ll

*Italian for ball of wool