LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER
No, don’t stay my friend. I don’t mean the great
tempests which will pound the windows with
their fists and will claim your surrender; It isn’t
so hard at that time, it’s the fear and resistance
even stubbornness. I talk of the other, the crystal
nights of spring or summer, when you discern
the light clearly chiming in its lucidity, when
the glass ships sail with their lights under
the inexplicable sobs of the stars.
When the imperceptible blow of an insect feather
on your forehead is an irreversible command
to fuse yourself with someone else, in someone
else and there’s no postponement under the exquisite
moonlight that constitutes an integral postponement.
For this, I tell you, it’s difficult to mend your socks
alone, difficult to mend one of your hands with
the other, one of your eyes with the other, one clock
tick with the other, the sound of one wave with
the sound of the another wave.
Manolis Aligizakis 