Where is
that man who strangely looks like you?
Where does
he hover on those workers dawn?
In which
tails does he stroll your way of moving around?
Your way of
laughing out loud?
That same
little move with the lips
As I waved
goodbye to your shadow - and she didn't care.
I imagine
her now strolling along my body
Challenging
miles and speed humps, flooding my senses, drowning me in nonsense.
Where can he
be, that man? Where does he hide even after
I've finally
found him among bright shapes moving
Just in
front of my eyes every dawn, every white silken dawn?
And why do I
dream your shadow as being Real, able to feel, to touch?
Able to
speed up hearts, to kidnap sleeps, to spell out words?
Why do I
dream your shadow as if she could paint your
Old shabby colours
suddenly gone from my canvas?
Gone through
inner desolation roads on this lost land
Hosting fate,
all children of choice... and circumstance.
Maria Fernandes
