I open a mango fruit
Its smell takes my memory
On its usual weird route.
Each slice as it slowly melts
Feels like a drop from your being
Sweet poison impairing my seeing
As in my blood it deeply gets.
And I cannot stop
I continue to eat
Until you live in me complete
Or dead poisoned I drop.
I wish to lie down on the ground,
Nobody to sense my presence around.
The soil to swallow my last bit of worry,
I don’t have to say anymore I’m sorry.
And then to stand up from my muddy bath
Purified, knowing my real path.
The world will find me everywhere around
As a pure breeze and a calming sound.
Cecilia-Anca Popescu left Romania in 1993, shortly after the Revolution. Today she is managing a chemical lab in her country of adoption. Burdened with the nostalgia of every Romanian immigrant, Cecilia-Anca Popescu writes in her poems about the drama of the expat and about her life experiences, whose mysteries could only be solved in the crucible of the creative act.
For information about Brian Henry's writing workshops and creative writing courses, see here.
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