To everyone, to everyone
Not for everyone
Who would believe in such universality
Whenever a sourdough bread and probiotics don’t appeal to all
How could one made-for-all quilt cover all our heels and ankles snugly?
How one lamp could attract the flies and mosquitoes, but no warmth or a single fly of a butterfly type?
Nothing can contain all of the sun of the invincible springtime
Only
I am thinking
If that essence, flour and song on earth,
Not a crystal buried so deep
No one can figure out under which tree,
If the people, doorways and dark bread
Were to receive that essence, receive themselves
Believe that they can put a loving hand on their forehead
And then everything could go calm and quiet…
Yes,
I will tell everyone, all I don’t know a tiny bit,
Who will never hear my name,
Those who live along this or other river or lakes sparkling like glass,
To you, to whoever, without knowing it, has waited for me
In non-universal recognition, I place my hand on a mashoire
On all fronts that heat not, that go calm
At the crossroads, at the exits, on the colourful paths.
And to those who wake and dress in the dark
Closing the buttons, they would find without a look, a regard
The way the egret stands at the edge of the water, meeting something that has not yet surfaced,
Patient from the knowing that what is coming is already on its way —
To you, then. To the heel that no quilt reached.
To the ankle that does not mind
To the fly that flew toward it —
Because what else is there to fly toward
But to that that goes to no regard.
If you would like to revisit some past work, they are accessible here: