Written 2004.04.09, 10.07a(m) to 10.14a
Uploaded 2004.05.15

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Untitled

by Damascus Ochre

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Returning to the house of problems
Leaving this one fair
With its ebon ivory keys of bone
Whose sound sings through the air
The fresh crisp wind of love afloat
Tangible to the touch
In silent tears and silver smiles
We forget the pearly gusts
As iron manifestations
Lead us to our doom
We finally remember much too late
That the flowers are in bloom.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This poem was written before we had to leave the house to get on the bus
for the airport. It talks about returning home, where everything is all
problematic and everything (my mom's job on the line, all the shit we have
to go through every day in the world we're so accustomed to, etc.), whereas
the home we had found in Paris was so comforting and "fair."

The room I slept in with my mom (which was my brother's lady's room; he's
boarding at her house for the time he's staying to study in Paris) had a
piano, thus the reference to "ebon ivory keys of bone," though I'm not sure
what the keys were made of.

Paris is known as the "City of Lights" and often as the "City of Love,"
which is referred to in "crisp wind of love afloat," because the wind is so
clean, as well.

But as we move away from the beauty of ancient buildings and sweeping
landscapes through "iron manifestations," better known as a man-made plane,
"We forget the pearly gusts" through tears that don't show themselves and
"silver smiles" that are not pure gold (and, thus, are not genuine).

And, finally, "We...remember much too late//That the flowers are in bloom,"
that spring has returned to grace such a gorgeous city with the wonders of
rebirth and life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(All comments written after writing the poem in my Xanga, with few edits
today)