The window was closed.
Inside we all felt stifled.
I never knew who did that,
I never wanted to know
I just had to act when
everyone else was trying to
play the game of guessing
insignificance and meaninglessness.
I unlocked that window one day.
Clean air spilled on my dry skin,
I inhaled raw purity,
once unknown but soon to be known
in the world I lived.
I felt what a sprouted seed feels
when morning sun shines on it.
That day I met you there, right there.
There was noise,
of asymptotic hopes,
of presumptuous probabilities.
They all wanted to argue
without checking the validity
of their squabble.
I had to leave alone,
to avoid staying submerged in
lifeless theories and reasonings.
Life erupts when logic fails.
That cold evening offered moments
Of goose bumps
in my gorgeous neighborhood
which I never knew existed.
Under the gray sky with pink spots
of last sun rays, at that very moment
I met you once again.
Some distance I had to cover.
Some roads I had to check again.
It is so strange that some
exits take me to you,
many connections keep us distant.
We keep running into
until we lose our addresses.
Some relations are not made
through post offices or emails.
Some missing links stay awake
inside us, passively,
accepting an uncertain timeline,
and the ebullient fact
that meeting again is prevailed.
Retrouvailles is a french word which means the happiness of meeting again. The word is one of my ten most favorite words. There are days when I feel lost and then I meet myself again, randomly. It’s true that no matter how life treats us, the true happiness comes to us when we are ourselves – when we know us well, when we are true to ourselves. This poem is dedicated to that typical part of life.