If I ever loved before, I didn't. The thing,
Resembled broodings of its tribulations.
On the far side of ungirdled, and quiverings
Of garish desires-for whatever reason
Bearing the name of love.
I tried to decipher myself, trapped in
Silences of mortal stakes, but still
Hauled in salt and sweat of errors
Never to be scaled.

If I even love today, I don't. The unthing
Resembles fleetings of its deliverance.
On the near side of tears;
Wrinkled and dissonant.
I tried to remember myself, distracted in
Silences of the gnawing facts, but still
The song and dance of terrors-deathless
Must remain untold.

T. Byram Karasu, MD is the author of Rags of My Soul

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Tags: deathless, deliverance, desires, far side, happiness, love, mystery, rags, silences, song and dance, sweat, t byram karasu, tribulations