Sunday, March 27, 2016

Lost in Shinjuku

On the street, I stand waiting 
in a space where my eye left 
without coming back, without second thought 

the language evades me, like never before
halts me from speaking, from seeking
a way out

on the street corner, the game shop greets
my confused envy of others' restfulness
with a monotone song, I am part of a crowd that is not

set to become one thing. the skyscrapers
swallow my hope of finding a way
amid the tired faces

not broken, not softened, not flattened
but drained of the hope of running around
the sky, dark and ever so welcoming

hails rain on my back, hails rain on my hair
as I wait for an answer, a pointer
a magic hand that lights up

or the voice that says this way or that
but none other than my companions arrive
more rain but this time around the scarf
that wraps my nose and smells of a land far away
like the remains of my mother's cooking 
this scarf, so soft, like the touch of a lover I never had.

the photo is taken at Shinjuku, the night I lost my way in a city bigger than me. (Canon, EOS 550D)

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