You haven’t told me about the war

You haven’t told me about the war

You’ve never told me about the war
About bombs from the sky and gray sheets
You’ve never described those days when you waited all by yourself
When you were left alone
When it was cold
I know you’ve forgotten what it’s like to dream about freedom,
what it’s like to be separated.

You’ve never told me about the war
You didn’t talk
We remembered your days together
From afar, I held your hand and recalled your life
I imagined these days and floated intoxicated

I loved your boat

You didn’t like to talk about the war
The one you were born and grew up in
You got through it somehow
Innocently, stoically
Boyishly
Solitarily

The lips talked about your days
About your cherries, steps
About the cheese for breakfast and fresh bread
The lips were talking
But the eyes…
They were tearful
Two eyes, survived
Two wars

I loved your poems
About the apples and the neighbor
The songs about loneliness, victory

Who is that warrior behind tearful and glassy eyes?

I loved to suffer with you
To weep over heavy steps and hallways
To touch your hand from distance
To wipe away your imagined tears

You’ve never told me about the war
That’s something one assumed wouldn’t have hurt
Something you might not have even remembered
My warrior, where did you come into this world from?

I would give you my hand where the bomb fell
The hand only
Only that
Because you are there, still sleeping
You are still breathing quietly
In silence, alone

You are not here now, but I’m giving you my hand
So you can find it in that darkness
The touch and the palm
So you may tell me about the war
About the times when you were left alone

You’ve never told me about the war
And you used to send me poems for many years
How to give love, you often didn’t know
But your verse was a dream. Always