In the unscrubbed mirror: Nurmuiž manor

In twilights gone
Truth fades like some
Antique paint, unsuited
To the impatient light
We deal with nowadays.

Still, a window
Is a window.

In the unscrubbed mirror: A Kurzeme meadow

I remember
Your summer dress
Billowing fragrances
Of untold yearning
Long into the night

These flowers, too,
Have long since passed.

Like souls at the sorting gate,
Searching for keys
To waken the ghosts imprisoned within,
They call out to be deciphered.
Can you make it out?

Two names, no longer legible,
Then, “Forever.”

This is the first of a series of short poems inspired by photographs I have taken over the years in Latvia.

Zigrida, your arms
Used to embrace me.
Now you watch
From your upstairs window
As I pass below,
As the long parade
Passes below.

In your dream,
Things are surely different.