First Poem of the year
I am the great detective, follow clues
through my own past amazed, retrace the dance
of steps. Go backwards, then again advance.
No sound except the echo of my shoes
tap-click against the pavements of the years
I thought I wasted but in fact I learned
so many fingers that I thought were burned
were building something, and so many tears
that left their traces here. Crisp on the page
words that I spoke in anger or in lust
that seemed absurd a while, but now are just
seen focussed through the burning glass of age
All mysteries solve themselves, unfold reveal
Time compensates for all that it will steal.