I wish for nothing in particular
nor gold, nor silver
nor the slightest material star
Not even the love of another being
nor warmth from the sun.
I wish for nothing beautiful.
What I crave lies beyond words
beyond prayers, beyond faith
beyond me: it is dead.
It died on a Thursday afternoon
not long before the assent
to the peak of Christmas dawned.
I wish for the return of the property
stolen from air I use to breathe
– I have a nickname for it.
But the memory is punctured
the proper name dribbled away
beyond reach, beyond breath.
It refuses to respond to my cries
lets the echo fester and reek of cracked eggs
in case I forget it wasn’t always so.
I wish it was like Lazarus
Maybe I’ll go on wishing and breathing too…
Composed just before xmas 2015. With special thanks to Lars.