{"id":22813,"date":"2024-12-04T14:45:00","date_gmt":"2024-12-04T13:45:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/?post_type=stsp_text&p=22813"},"modified":"2024-12-04T16:20:05","modified_gmt":"2024-12-04T15:20:05","slug":"gedichte-17","status":"publish","type":"stsp_text","link":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/text\/gedichte-17\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

AS IF<\/strong>


You have to visit places
before terrible things happen
meet people
before terrible things happen to them
in places you always dreamed of visiting
in places you never thought you would visit
you have to visit these places
have unexpected conversations
in languages you barely understand
or throw your body into the language
of the people and their land and culture
you have to visit places
before the terrible things happen
so that when the terrible things happen
it really will mean something
it will mean that
the terrible things
are now also happening to you
and of course it is sad
that you have had to visit these places
and enjoyed the warmth
of the people you met
the walks you took together
the food you ate
and perhaps the love you felt
it is sad
that you needed to visit these places
before the terrible things happened
to feel
to really feel anything now
it is very sad
that you could not feel these things
having never visited these places
having never walked together with these people
having loved one of them
very sad
and yet you tell yourself
I am only human
as if you really believed it<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

AGE<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Age comes back after a long journey
it comes back after not finding what it wanted
it returns and no one recognizes it
it walks the streets where it was born
as if it were a migrant worker standing
on a street corner hoping to work
as the sun rises over the hillside where you were born
or on some desolate field
it comes back on a rainy and windy day
when no one has time to take a closer look
at a face that has no resemblance to the one you have
it comes back carrying a handful of supplies
that are no longer of any use
Age comes back as if it were an old man
pointing a finger at someone
blaming them for what has happened
while they were away
Age comes back and mutters to itself
as though it were giving a tour
of where it was born
and where it went to school
and where it had its first kiss
and where it wandered the streets
afraid to face what it could not understand
Age comes back with a round of applause
from a handful of drunks
that gather at any funeral where they can
get a free drink
it comes back with an excuse from its mother
why it didn’t go to school
why it was not destined to be put into a uniform
or an early grave
it comes back second guessing every thought
afraid to put a handful of words on paper
afraid
as though it were signing a death warrant
or just its name
releasing itself from any further responsibility<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

VOICES<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No of course not<\/em>
This is all a mistake<\/em>
You misunderstood<\/em>
Not for a moment<\/em>
I would not presume<\/em>
To speak I mean<\/em>
To speak from<\/em>
Well, for lack of a better word<\/em>
The heart<\/em>
Those were not<\/em>
Poems I wrote<\/em>
You don’t seriously believe<\/em>
In the face of<\/em>
Well in the face of what I know<\/em>
Know now<\/em>
And didn’t know then<\/em>
Or pretended to know<\/em>
And yet<\/em>
Wrote<\/em>
Yes, thought I was<\/em>
Writing my heart out<\/em>
And in fact<\/em>
It was nothing<\/em>
I can explain<\/em>
I didn’t mean to<\/em>
Intrude<\/em>
To efface<\/em>
The voices<\/em>
The ones<\/em>
That mattered<\/em>
No of course not<\/em>
Mine did not matter<\/em>
How could it have mattered<\/em>
I was young<\/em>
Well not that young<\/em>
Then I was old<\/em>
And yes I wrote<\/em>
I confess<\/em>
I did<\/em>
Poems<\/em>
Or at least I believed<\/em>
They were<\/em>
Yes, from the heart<\/em>
From somewhere<\/em>
Buried<\/em>
Well, I don’t know<\/em>
What to say<\/em>
In my defense<\/em>
Forgiveness I ask<\/em>
Yes, to anyone<\/em>
Listening to me<\/em>
When in fact<\/em>
They should be<\/em>
Listening<\/em>
To the sirens<\/em>
The police and ambulance sirens<\/em>
The air raid sirens of course<\/em>
The rooster at dawn<\/em>
The neighbor coming home drunk late at night<\/em>
The thief breaking into the flat<\/em>
Yes, listen to the gossip<\/em>
Listen to the rain falling<\/em>
Listen to the wind blowing through the trees<\/em>
Listen to your heart beating<\/em>
Listen to anything<\/em>
Not me<\/em>
Not my heart beating<\/em>
Not this poem<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

AS IF You have to visit placesbefore terrible things happenmeet peoplebefore terrible things happen to themin places you always dreamed of visitingin places you never thought you would visityou have to visit these placeshave unexpected conversationsin languages you barely understandor throw your body into the languageof the people and their land and cultureyou have to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":22677,"template":"","categories":[61,11],"class_list":["post-22813","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-30","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"\nPoems - stadtsprachen<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/text\/gedichte-17\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale:alternate\" content=\"de_DE\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poems - 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