Journey to the East, by Martin Cid

Journey to the East, by Martin Cid
by Kruseman

by Kruseman

The ghost just looks at us directly, almost without remembering the past which brought it here. It would like to forget the reflection of his heart on his mouth.
I saw it one time and one time I was trapped in an unfamiliar place, that place where I was born and I will also die because everything happens among shadows and reflections and falls, it falls to rise again and to come back again. Is it me? The wind cries.

One day I was born but I do not remember it: is anyone able to do that? Yesterday, I told the shadows. ‘Wake!’ Lady Death says, but yesterday she was dead. I dreamed drunk and tired, what do I must wait for? I walked slowly and said goodbye to her, also fall on the floor without breathing. I felt her breath on my neck: ‘will you come?’ Let me here.

I looked and saw her dead. I still feel her last breath. They say that shamans choose the time of his death. Simply, they stop to breathe. The fight is over and she finally settles her last breath in the air. She has begun to decompose slowly and to walk in another form and I deposit her body, still warm, on the sidewalk that she has ordered.Who is able to contradict the last will of a woman?

I closed my eyes and walked forward. She now looks at me, I go to her, to her forever. It lasted barely a moment, I remember. It is delightful to remember the moment of death. Just a moment more and she will return. It is delightful to feel the flesh and blood dying time and again falling back to where you came from. I cling to those last moments and I cling to your breathing quiet. Did you see me dying? Just silence. Where was I? In the dark, it’s all noises of the past in a puzzle where the pieces do not fit and she has gone. Sometimes a soul touches me but I still see the ghosts, I cannot touch ghosts. It’s a terrible effort and she is looking through the eyes of others and I see her in the same position in the same street. What are you waiting? She just pauses for a moment before re-breathing. When do the shamans decide to return?

I am who say now ‘come with me, cross the street, my love, cross the street.’

A strange person approaches and lends assistance. She gets up and he takes her hand, the hand that once I loved. Come with me, my love, come to this lonely darkness and come back with your eyes closed. The ambulance approches.

What will you do with my remains scattered now? My feet are awkward in this new state. Return to you, my love, I will see you again.
For now, forever, in your dreams.

Written by Martin Cid

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