cyfrinach ryfedd amdanaf - byddaf yn cyfaddef yma yn iaith niwl a hud…. (a'm treftadaeth gudd, gudd)
does neb yn berchen arna i. Nid wyf erioed wedi cwrdd â dyn yr oeddwn yn teimlo ei fod yn deilwng i allu rhoi fy hun iddo. weithiau mae wedi teimlo ei fod oherwydd fy mod i eisoes yn perthyn i rywun ers talwm. mae wedi bod fel hyn i mi erioed; roedd yno bob amser yn cysgodi fy meddyliau a'm cof
always, it is when in my worst hour of need that he appears; he does come to me
…..in dream
I wake up with my mind caught in a lasso. emotions and then nostalgia …. destroy me…. and no idea why….
if I could, I would admit ….
and say
the only grip I have ….tossed out through the cyber channels and volleyed like a whisper ….from the language of our codes —that very threadbare faith …. I am truly heard…. and it is not imagined
….thank you
sea air fills my head
as the voices drift up from the courtyard ….
I say to ambush ….
voices linger across the currency ….strategies and plans spoken and hatched….
someone else says,
surprise attack….
Only I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to go chasing some evil demon….don’t want him to—fear—tempting fate ….and watching the sea as it drugs the mind with its hypnotic rhythm; how it pulls and tugs….you back…. on its currents; ever forward its encroachment onto the temporal earth; pulling away to sink and drown its sandy flesh, leaving behind skeletal shells that fossilize
….we are all fossils, dust
but we are more than this,
more, much more, than flesh,
more
even
than ashes
and dust….
more,
much more too….
than de roet
he says it is ‘to heal….’
I forget myself…. the limitations of the human mind that conflict within but it is so easy to give in to
How I have searched and longed for, in truth
—why I have avoided anyone getting too close
this bond. It cannot be broken. not even by lifetimes. Still it keeps me
like that first moment when I first saw him…. It was something in just his walk
I recognized….
the way he moved ….
how his hair caught on the breeze ….the hut with the deep fire pit; the beat of metal against metal; the symphony
“Tell me why you stay,” he says pressing himself deeply within ….as thought and words are like tedious knots; booby traps, confusing and causing any ability to process to malfunction
“Tell me,” he says and withholds himself and his motions
But dream takes over, and I watch the shadows on the wall…. and listen to the pounding of the piano keys ….his opera that plays in my mind as I press to him mimicking his motions —and with it, it naturally comes, this urgent need wrap around him, to press to hard to him as I say,
“no,” as I do this
but he does not move at all
“….please….” pressing to him
Only he repeats,
“tell me why you stay,” still holding back
“Please….” I say, and whisper, “don’t go with the others—promise you will stay here, I don’t trust the others!”
“Stay where—here? The others, duva?”
“Yes, please! don’t make me wait….”
he says,
“wait for what?”
“The sun, you said! Don’t make me wait!”
“Duva….?” he says with a jab in a whisper, sinking deep, pressing
“don’t leave…. promise me! Don’t leave here alone, please!” but all thoughts dissolve, overcome by the fluidity of his moves
I hardly hear him say,
“no, never again, duva! I promise —not, never again….”
but I do hear ….as it echoes in the morning in my mind
…..upon waking
