Once, we were like two open windows
facing each other, where the wind never stopped;
then suddenly one afternoon I saw you glance
toward me — yet it felt like nothing was there.
I thought tomorrow everything would be fine
rain would come and wash away all stains, all wrong turns;
tomorrow passed, and so did so many springs, so many autumns
only your pain slowly merged into the lines of my hand.
Now when the phone rings, I feel afraid — afraid that
on the other side there will be only the sound of breathing, then silence;
I want to tell you, how many moons have floated away
in the salt water of my eyes — and you don't know.
This is how we scatter like stars
two thousand light-years apart — yet under the same sky;
between us only this deep silence, this not-understanding
this swinging between being and almost not being.