Donibane

Sur les gravats de la grande maison anéantie

Le dernier nuage de poussière s'est répandu en bruissant.

L'ultime gémissement des âmes chères en partance et la plainte des animaux fidèles se sont attardés un moment sur la lande.

Le grand silence s'est installé sur les longues soirées d'hiver.

Les rivières de larmes se sont taries.

La douleur cristallisée a donné au coeur l'éclat froid d'un diamant parfait

autour duquel s'enroule toujours l'âme désolée

cherchant en vain

une dernière étincelle.

Maman, ce soir je voudrais te parler de l'automne,

Tu me manques tellement.

J'imagine que tu as vécu ce que je vis aujourd'hui,

Si difficilement.

Je ne supporte plus  cet effet Hiroshima de la vie.

Le départ des êtres aimés.

La dislocation de ce qui autrefois était la seule raison d'être, de continuer.

Je ne supporte plus les trahisons,

Je n'ai plus la force ni l'envie de trahir avant d'être trahie.

Les anciens sont partis,

Emportant avec eux leurs secrets,

Ceux qui restent sont meurtris, décatis, écartelés, pelotonnés dans un coin d'une pièce,

Rassemblant autour de leurs corps tremblant, les guenilles de leurs âmes de leurs doigts grêles,

Quêtant des miettes de soleil et de chaleur.

La génération montante écrase la ruine de leur désespoir, de leur indifférence, de leur mépris, de leur rancoeur.

Ils ne savent pas qu'un jour, à des années lumières de là,

Recroquevillés à leur tour dans l'obscurité d'une encoignure, dans la brume cotonneuse de leur âme,

Ils écriront

Maman, ce soir, je voudrais que tu sois toujours là,

Je voudrais te parler de l'automne...

What has become of us ?

We were caught in the vortex of life

I let your hand go and I drifted on

Like an autumn leaf left to fly madly and softly fall  after an angry gust of northern wind

In a November twilight

Together with so many other autumn leaves

Wjich have already fallen

On the ground.

Elle est partie.

Une petite âme, 

Toute  petite âme

Si grande dans sa souffrance

Si digne

Un autre départ à l'assaut des étoiles.

Je n'ai plus de larmes.

Ou mes yeux sont-ils noyés

Dans un océan de larmes, grandes marées intarissables,

Comme le ressac pleure sur la grève

Au rythme des grandes marées.

"Wooo oo oo oo

Ce ki faut c'est la danse les os"

chante Tropik TV ...

Soleil créole...

October full moon

I feel I belong to you

Sweet red wine through my veins

Red, red wine

The colour of my life

The colour of my ever lasting love

Burning through my veins

Giving me the strength to go on

To live on.

Voodoo full moon

Giving me the illusion of your presence

By my side.

Your hidden truth I once was

My hidden truth you have become

God bless you and protect you

Wherever you are.

 Let me cherish this little light of mine

Deep in my heart

The way in the beginning of times

The first men

Were keeping their fire alive.

Today

Of all days

The crushing heat and the deep wind from the South

Trying to remember

To gather crumbs from the past

Folded handkerchieves from seven years ago

Still bearing the scent of our heavy wardrobe,

Old photos,

Old happy times,

As if nothing could have parted us.

Lea the cat has been a witness and here she goes, on tip toes, the soft presence of bygone days

Silent tears run down my cheeks.

Baron Saturday is keeping an eye on us all.

My sweet love of sun and honey

My own life

I treasure the memory of you so deep in my heart it hurts

I need you

How can I possibly live without you.

You will always be on my mind.

Blue is the colour of my true love,

In the morning,

When I rise

My world is Indigo

I hurt indigo

I cry indigo tears

I love you in the indigo mist of bygone days and no future .

The day

These gemstones got broken

Noone realized

There would be no going back.

They will never be the same again

Shining their past glory

Through their scattered smithereens

Ever longing to feel whole

Ever trying to fully shine

Under the sun again.

Broken gemstones

Will remain

For ever

Broken.

The big one...

The Earth has been shaken in far away Japan, 

Shaken... skyscrapers falling... railway lines torn off the mountain...

People have tried to cope, fighting the inner fear of sudden death.

While somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, a whirlpool surged and gave birth to a gigantic freak wave which swept everything on its way. Buildings, cars, people, altogether tumbled into the black and lethal tidal wave...

The heart of the nearby nuclear plants began to melt...

It was the beginning of the end. Is it the beginning of the end ?

God have mercy on us all.

in the South. A little house with lavender shutters in the deep South of France. Time has come to a standstill. The scent of trees and fresh grass... the songs of birds in the morning and the rising sun...my heart is aching, looking for a sign, embedded in the garden stones and earth, from the house, telling me that I have been there and the stones and the trees remember. We were once there twenty six years ago, with our young hopes and loves.

The house still stands there unperturbed. Beautiful !

We were there, once again. It was another chapter of the book of life.

We were determined to forget while remembering every second of this past which keeps seeping through our fingers like the sand on the beach.

There might be an old footprint left or a blurred echo of those happy hours. Something that makes a far corner of our minds blue, a distans ache from bygone days...

The future builds itself in spite of our plans, ignoring the past.

Ignoring the past : a question of survival.

Ignoring the past : is it the key to happiness ?

Too much sorrow

Regrets...

Things left undone.

I miss you.

I know there is nothing more I can do for you to be at peace with yourself, with me, with the whole universe

But I love you

I miss you

Your presence

There a question I often ask myself.

Shall I ever see you again

Before Jugement Day ?

And if I do,

Will you hate me ?

My beloved husband for ever mine

I love you

I love your daughter

She is the only trace of our love

You and me, together in one person

For ever and ever

It was written that we are linked.

Too much sorrow in Bordeaux

For both of us.

Everyday I pray for you

For your daughter.

I feel a lot for my friend who saved me from death

But I long for you.

Shall we ever be together again ?

You are over the rainbow now my friend, with your immaterial smile, just like the Cheshire Cat.

You have become a dream

A dream

That comes to remind me that you once were

When the moon is at its fullest over the Biscaye Bay

As the tide rolls in

I feel the touch of your skin

Your soft hands

Your smooth words

Within the speck of a few seconds.

You have become a shadow

The shadow of what should have remained

A cherished ghost between the clouds

Blown by the South Wind

You are fading away

But you are permanent and you will remain so,

Like a dying soul's last breath...

The November wind was howling outside this morning,

thrushing large raindrops mercilessly against the window pane

as I was slowly plaiting my hair.

Purple and gray, I looked at myself in the mirror and

what I saw was the Scarlet Letter and the weary look of a woman drawn from the 17th Century Puritan times.

Sadness and melancholy of gone-by days.

Memories of a full house and sunny spells.

Rough is the road of someone

who is forever mourning the loss

 of a twin soul.

I long for some other times somewhere,

When I could find my home back in West Africa

Will it ever happen ?

Will it ever be ?

A time when I can run to you and tell you the girls have grown, I am proud of them..

When I can tell you Lea the cat is old but pulling through..

A time when you put your arms around me the way you used to, telling me we are survivors...

Yes, indeed I am a survivor.

My heart is sore

I need you

I miss you

I try and concentrate on my girls

I try and concentrate on my friend

But my sorrow is endless.......

My load is heavy....

Hara kiri. This is what I did to myself six years ago.

I have no more heart, my body is disemboweled

I miss you

Only the girls keep me alive

Do I miss you !

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Bless you

Dedicated souls

Dedicated to the young and old

Dedicated to animals

Dedicated to the Earth

Just dedicated

Rest in peace

If dedication is a blessing

In Paradise

Dedication for I know, might be hell,

Of yearning and longing

for love

Made real by a tear

Running wild and helpless

Down a desolated cheek

..... j'ai laissé ma vie

..... au bord de l'Océan Atlantique,

...... sur les hauteurs boisées d'Aburi

Je me replonge dans cette souffrance du bonheur passé, je revis chaque moments, du moindre grain de sable je me souviens, je me dédouble dans l'écriture, au coeur de cette vie, ma vie.

Je n'ai pas de présent et encore moins d'avenir.

Mes proches me sont chers mais je me sens lointaine, noyée dans l'aliénation de mon passé perdu.

La vie m'échappe, j'accepte tout sauf de rompre le lien qui m'attache aux objets et au souvenir.

Seule, dans l'appartement désert, je me sens paisible. J'écris. La douleur fuit de ma plume comme la fatigue s'écoule par les pieds de ceux qui ont trop marché.

Ma vie intérieure me permet de ne pas être prisonnière de ma réalité.

Soixante et une saison des pluies ne font pas de moi une grand-mère.

Je ne répond pas aux attentes.

La vie m'échappe et égoïstement je fuis dans les rythmes de roulis et de tangage d'Alaïak