samaelstjerne

𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝗒 𝖬𝖺𝗁𝗆𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁

I am a woman, no more and no less.

I live my life as it is
thread by thread
and I spin my wool to wear,
not to complete Homer’s story or his sun.

And I see what I see
as it is, in its shape,
though I stare every once in a while in its shadeto sense the pulse of defeat,
and I write tomorrow on yesterday’s sheets:
there’s no sound other than echo.

I love the necessary vagueness in what a night traveler says to the absence of birds
over the slopes of speech
and above the roofs of villages

I am a woman, no more and no less.

The almond blossom sends me flying
in March, from my balcony,
in longing for what the faraway says:
“Touch me and I’ll bring my horses to the water springs.”

I cry for no clear reason, and I love you
as you are, not as a strut
nor in vain
and from my shoulders a morning rises onto you
and falls into you, when I embrace you, a night.

But I am neither one nor the other
no, I am not a sun or a moon
I am a woman, no more and no less

So be the Qyss of longing,
if you wish.
As for me,
I like to be loved as I am.
Not as a color photo in the paper,
or as an idea composed in a poem amid the stags.

I hear Laila’s faraway scream from the bedroom:
Do not leave me a prisoner of rhyme in the tribal nights,
do not leave me to them as news.

I am a woman, no more and no less
I am who I am,
as you are who you are:
you live in me
and I live in you,
to and for you

I love the necessary clarity of our mutual puzzle
I am yours when I overflow the night
but I am not a land
or a journey
I am a woman, no more and no less.

And I tire
from the moon’s feminine cycle
and my guitar falls ill
string,
by string.

I am a woman,
no more
and no less!