Blue and Circles

Because of that blue, we journeyed far.
Through the undulating curves of rivers and mountains,
until at last, that mountain came into view.

Where blue and the circle overlap,
the deepest point is the universe.

If blue were to loop without end,
would it be a transgression?

Blue has no answer.
It only passes through.

When infinitely diluted, blue becomes the sky;
when soaked through, blue becomes the sea.

Sometimes it is freshly laid gouache,
sometimes paint left to dry.
Sometimes thickly layered,
sometimes brushed on lightly- wet or dry, dense or thin,
these are all ways of being blue.

Years accumulate without subtraction.
We surrender to every shade of blue – not in resistance,
but in return. Blue is within our sight, and within the years themselves.

The color of wind

The wind over the sea is purple,
because of the first encounter.
The sea is white.
The wind in the forest is green,
because summer has just begun.
The heart dances in shadow.

A memorial of Slippers

How many chances does a pair of slippers have to run away,
before they end up lying in a pool of blood,
becoming a memorial?

A Ukrainian’s slippers
were just an ordinary pair-
until there was no time to run away.
Now they stand as a memorial.

No pair of slippers can outrun a shell.
Yet Ukraine became the vanguard,
leaving its freshest blood upon the Earth.
Turning a single slipper into a memorial.

A few green leaves cling to the blood,
like the heavy metal of summer,
unable to lift an instrument,
only write down the date.