I pass … without regret, without wonder,
no question of where I have been so far
and whether there are occasional awakenings
credited with changing my temper.
If once every act was a sin,
it is the fault of an unknown woman.
Her nightmares and conceited bad luck
they are less important than this moment.
Out of solitude, out of relentless color,
swollen eyelids, full nostrils,
it smelled of night sweats,
but a tear of joy pays dearly.
She wanted happiness, but the fear was stronger.
He squirmed at the height of life
and said: Powerless, cry.
I won’t let you approach a fabulous moment.
Sleepy springs, dead winters,
extinguished summers, autumn in everything …
it is her choice. I? I’m going with him!
And when it changes, I’m in it again.
I’m not asking where he’s going. What do I need the outcome for?
That’s all, now, and tomorrow will be.
Under the eye already swells eerie year,
but he can’t scare me.
I pass … without memory, without remorse,
without any need but God;
I pass without sadness, without conquest …
My life is where my foot is. Eveline N Keke