“La tristesse durera toujours”
Vincent Van Gogh’s final words.
Like Van Gogh’s gospel
the water of my sermon is a fire of tears.
For Babylon a lover left me to her bed of coal;
my earmarked re(a)d: return to sender.
Her faceless sons who flank my pyre
just fingers, noses; swirls of charcoal
I will etch into the firmament -
forever turbulent– tristesse.
Who – desolate by shimmering grace –
ascended to the starry night
by pistol-shot, and left lament
among the wildflowers?