Sunday, March 27, 2016

From Tokyo, with love, or other things

Last night I closed my eyes in Jerusalem
this morning I open my eyes in Tokyo

where the rain that slants on the rooftops
bangs the shades of the forest, quietly

like people moving into the subway stations
two hundred, two thousand, two million

ideas come to my head,
and the eyes meets green,

all forms of beauty, flowers grow
on trees, that grow on your heart

in Tokyo, the realization that one chases
luck to the end of earth, flourishes

but brings along this pang of panic
that rests among the comparison of tall buildings to small hands

fast trains that run into hundreds of lines
carrying you to one needed destination

in Tokyo, the shadow of the past tangos
with the unique present at every street-corner

beaming with color and light
a flavor explodes on my tongue as I twist it

into words, long but proud of their origin
braid the conversation around mutual ground

I learn how to peacfully patch the ground
that was once shaken too much by earthquakes

in Tokyo, at night I write- without anyone in my head
to instruct me of the direction of the verse

I compose a quick note I do not dot the letters,
from Tokyo I send you nothing but warm wishes
of love, of a long-happy-life, of postcards promising
a return to where we once met, from Tokyo you will
receive only love while I keep the other things.

6 March 2016, Youth Memorial  Olympic Center- Tokyo.

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