This journey

This journey which obliterates your image
torn blood-angel thrown to the dogs
this landscape is deserted as my forehead
wound of the roses
I have wanted to see you walk without chains
I longed to see your face open and free
your broken face and dry as the mud
wound of the earth
in the nights of absence without eyes
I have cried to see you carry a real star
I have cried to see the blue sky and to hear
one word from life
bitter angel untrue with a flame in your mouth
I have placed two swallows under your armpits
and drawn a secret cross on your face
for the man
of whom you had reminded me once.