Yearning is like
A voiceless call,
Warm and humid, then hot and dry,
A Sirocco to a Harmattan
The longer you wait,
The louder it gets.
The harsher.
Yearning is
Groping once, twice
And finally grasping
A fistful of air;
Repeating the same questions-
When? Soon? Ever?
Ever heard of
The drawn-out longing that
Tugs and pulls
Savors then severs
The leap of the eager heart,
And with sinews and veins hanging
Like frayed ends,
Gives it flight-
Where it sees the moon
But never touches it?
Do you know of it?
Then you haven't loved.
bodo.2014
