The cheeks move from one side to the other.
He preached security whilst
Feeding you a sense of powerlessness
And you were convinced that you could be
Robbed of everything.
I sit across from you and wait for action.
Your fist on the table.
Your scream of revolution.
The opening of your dreams
That he strangled to make room for himself.
The girl with the long locks and white socks
Has disappeared in your womanly body somewhere.
Fear had been knitted into her skin, her heartbeat.
And I look for her. I want her to rise against the violence.
The drunken war-dance raging against her.
She burst outside of the picture frame
And I cannot hold her.
She buried her life inside of her.
Her eyes never managed to be superficial.
I evoke her chamber in my head and think of her presence.
She wanted to leave, to escape, to finally sleep in peace.
In her own body it would never happen.
Her body consisted of ghosts, contained terrors from lost years.
She dreamed of her nonexistence and I fell apart.
I could never let her go in my own heart.
“Head of a Young Girl” by Jacob van Oost (1603-1671)
Croque-Melpomene 