"Free" is a Lonely Word

You, a memory of loneliness, a single word

wandering the mountain ridges of my brain

over steep cliffs descending into cold ravines.

Like a leopardess tormented by hunger,

it moves swiftly without leaving a trace.

The word tells me:

it doesn’t want to disappear into emptiness

as if it'd never existed. It wants me to see it, to track it

like a hunter, and find it in the memory,

and speak its name aloud.  But I really don't know

where to put it.  Word, where can I place you

in this world?  This world that's not even mine,

a world of politicians, a world of businessmen.

I'm walking here as if on a knife's edge, or in a maze.

It's a maze indeed.

Television and newspapers all teach us rules,

the ins and outs of games. Everyone says

you need money to be happy, to have dignity.

I see the doors on the great maze opening wide.

I don't want to enter.  I'd rather

face a single flower, a bird, a star.  I'd rather

shut myself in this room

I'd rather let you, word... disappear.