Sister

My sister whom I never saw again .

In the winter hours you left .

What has become of your life ?

Did spring wait for you ?

 You are that part of me 

that has offered itself to the unknown...

Writing of a frantic manuscript ,

specular wound that never healed...

I found inspiration in the skin of ghosts

where I rewrite the story of your shapes...

I no longer remember the sparkle in your eyes.

 Did they have a blue burn  ?

  Or the black of a night bird's flight ?

  draft letter in tears of exile ,

that I never received ...

 One morning , a train ,took you  away

to to a city I never knew ...

 In the suburbs of a distant south ,

or so it seems, the sun often shines forever

but never soothes the torn duality ...

 Perhaps I have learned to cry ?

Or is it just the rain that wets 

the metal dunes of my soul ?

An elegant condottiere 

with a  hard father's heart 

took your destiny into his hand 

as others take to the sea ...

Stones also know how to love !

They remain there ,pensive,

amid the laughter of the crowd...

 My sister, convulsive lunar object 

of my reverie...

 Double funeral of my solitary walk .

I ,who have become this disillusioned nobleman...

  Sometimes ,a random Picasso ,

redraws your image ,

on the last page of a children's fairy tale...