he knew how to be happy, how to live
however, he didn’t know quite well how to leave
how to build the waxen wall between us
cool beads, icy beads, preceded the mourning
strung on a whip, tangled up among my fingers since
clenching of hands preceded the mourning
alike a garland extremely stretched between two realms
the avulsion at all hazards of one breath
and of another one, preceded the mourning

I couldn’t accept to look for his shirt for the last time
nor to face the reality’s tawdry eye
to remain without support

only for three days I still could uphold
my forehead on his frosted hands

a real house is a house full of friends
he was using to say
and all of the sudden
our house hard-tried by an unnatural happening
became unbearably real
it was an unexpected end, a painful beginning
of another kind of living
I never understood what all those people were doing there

now, when daddy’s son became a woman
I know that great part of the silences
made of never spoken words
buried and changed into clay
long time ago
when all the others were celebrating
the Good Annunciation day