Homesick Island
I am the homesick island.
Year in and year out alone, surrounded by silence, stray people sometimes visit me.
They roam me with expressionless faces, they vaguely see me through a screened film. Other pressed images pull behind their foreheads.
in the evening, when the mainland flashes from over there, like a little swaying point they sit on my highest cliff. And cry.
I do not know, what I have in myself, that I make her cry. Driven and cosmopolitan, Vacation jettors and even base warriors, they all.
But I do not want to, that they will stay forever.
So I'm driving up a storm. With downpours, that are so swampy, that my earth breaks open, lashes on them on awakening. To evict!
Then everything is calm again. I am alone and quiet. So great is the silence, I even hear the island of death —
And on the horizon the little mother ship is getting smaller and smaller—-
(13.1.2020)