The Parents Poem by Artan Gjyzel Hasani

dear dad,
today is mom's birthday
and now she is so old
but these verses are written for you…
the smell of your nicotine comes from my fingers
as your ring stays between them
like a green eye sprinkled in gold…

there are days, dad,
that I feel like being you
dressed up with yourself
covered by your charm
walking in your elegant steps
talking with your sweet voice
thinking with your silence

betrayed by the mirrors
on the glasses of the vitrines
I catch your reflecting eyes
and again I feel like being you
with your finest smile
and sometimes even a chuckle
drawn on the corner of your lips
by the sarcastic era you used to live in…

but the evening comes and I disrobe you from myself
like you used to undress when came back home
silently
quietly
slowly...

I contemplate you, father,
staying in front of you
and than … I start talking to you
words that I couldn't say that day
in the middle of that room
where I washed your naked lifeless body
no one left to do the last services for you

none
always alone in the middle of the crowd, father…
you were an orphan…

I clad you in the best clothes, dad
the best-est ever
I hugged you for the last time
remember?
my tears slipped on your face
your dead body leaned on my chest...

but it was better you passed away still young, dad,
it was better...
mom is hunched
she's getting old
forgotten by everyone
she lives her loneliness alone
there is no one to stay with her
she argues every day with me on the phone
and with my son as well
complaining that we are so far
then she rants and raves

she cries...
shedding your teardrops
the ones you never bore
and then...
like every other day…for many years
she walks to your home-grave
in silence
alone
always dressed in black…
without tears...