Dora

August this year marked 20 years since my best childhood friend left this world. I wrote the verses below in 1998, shortly after I learned about her tragic departure. As far as I know, it was a surgical error that should have never happened. At that time I had been in Canada for about three years. Writing, especially poetry, in a language learned in adult life can never be the same as writing in one’s mother tongue. But poetry was part of my learning process, and also the best way to express my feelings.

To Dora

(August 1998)

 “Could I talk to your mom?’

I asked your little child.

“There is no mom, anymore.”

A trembling voice replied.

No mom anymore? – my voice stumbled   

As an old belated refrain,

These words continued to tumble.         

Inside – darkness, emptiness, pain…

 A forgotten image slowly recalled-

Sunny, calm, August day,

Canada, Quebec, Baie St. Paul,

Little church, me the tourist, saying a prayer….

 How could I have possibly known

That you were leaving us then?

Your voice so weak and so low

Somehow reached me again.

 I wept months in my lonely place

And part of me slowly died.

My graveyard roses I’ll replace

With this little song. Good Bye!

Goodbye

(fall of 1998)

Farewell my dear friend,
My dear friend good bye,
On your fresh and silent grave,
My flowers could not lie.
The stars I gaze at midnight
From my high-rise hollow
And the bitter words I write
On the sky – my soul’s howl.
Good bye my youth, good bye my teens.
You took your lonely journey.
Hello the day, you keep my dreams.
I hope, I live, I stay!