Symphony of Kaleidoscopes

2013,

 

I

 

on a dizzy morning in june


my eyes were rubbed against the view

       of that piazza


you should see those kaleidoscopes

- even as a child of ten


i could never take my eyes off of them-

for the very first time, as if in a dream

       i saw the reality;

my beard grown out,

and my voice cracking,

and seeing


words could be tender

no matter what

 

i was thinking of those desks


those school desks dangling in my mind

       as like question marks


in those school days still capturing my mind

and to those dangerous questions


we used to raise our hands


under the shadow of the rotten stringers


so many unanswered questions has left

a couple thousands of us


trying to explain


the close range between innocence and rage:

rage is cruel without innocence


innocence is submission

       without rage, said a man


(on his eyebrows there was blood and sand)

 

on that morning


we had already burnt down the desks

our kaleidoscopes were in pieces

 

no rust left on the stringer

no lies in our words

 

II

 

the day was booming.

colosseum tumbling down

       for the very first time

the earth was seen as it was:

the surface split in two,


two different orchestras, earth in polyphony,

one telling us kurt huber’s dead


the other playing shostakovic, the 7th symphony!

 

On that very day


just like a dissident string

       breaking loose from a violin

the city broke loose

       from the earth.