Wishful Thanking

Like a vanishing murmur,
Like an infinity column of hope,
Your breath goes up, touches the incandescent sunrays
and down through the misshaped holes in the clouds
heating the road back home,
closer then closer. The hunt is off;
I’ve locked the fear doors and I’m now waiting-
The night’s darkness is fading away,
blurring the echoes of a foe pain
from a safe distance.
Thank God for the tattoos covering these scars,
the crawling minutes before we get over,
the parting memories of dying comrades,
their empty coffins 
and full glasses raised one last toast 
after another!

Wishing upon the same crossroad,
We hereby embrace this luminiscence,
our allegorical headway,
the final victories over mutual rivals,
Regretting only

The deafening stillness of the still hunted.


If only...

If walls could talk,
              they would whisper;
If mirrors could see,
              they would not look behind;
If the sun could stop,
              it would linger above the mountain dew,
the small talk, the nothing-to-do,
              stolen moments I have with you.