Far From Home

I’m listening to snowflakes dying,
As they melt upon the tips of my eyelashes.
I’m watching silence slipping through my fingers,
This tentative and reticent sign-language
Of my attempt to grasp for heavens,
In umpteenth time, futile,
To feel and follow the faint trace
That birds have left in clouds
On their journey home,
From where Eastern wind delivers
Those dear and familiar
Words, dreams and hopes.
Painfully forgotten
And decayed with time,
I need them no more
In my new life,
Filled with new prayers and desires
Recited in new tongue.
Change is the only constant,
For better or for worse.
I won’t be entering
Into the same stream twice.
...Only my heart remembers,
Refuses to forget
The silence in those farewell eyes...
And the screaming snowflakes
In their pointless sacrifice
Upon my eyelashes.
And the turquoise sky,
Where migrating birds
Have marked a trail
Tirelessly flapping
Their wings in effort
To unite two thoughts
Of two such close
And such distant
From each other souls.
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2014


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