it rained during the night
my Turkish flag flutters
damp in the wind
the street is empty
but did I expect it
not to be
at 5 o’clock
in the morning
it’s Sunday all day
quiet now
after last night’s speeches
and chanting
people are still protesting
what is to them
a move to dictatorship
it’s all flashback
the sixties
something I survived
to find myself observing
here in my adopted land
the cat has followed me
out here to the living room
and sits on the back
of my chair
wondering
just what we will do
as I sit here wondering
what will become
of a people
I have grown
so very fond
of
this morning
all mornings
in ancient Istanbul
other writing
lately
I suppose my thinking
lately
is less muddled
than before
a good sign
no doubt
of future plans
or at least
of planning
for the future
and though there are things
familiar now
in an unfamiliar world
which will be lost
or actually replaced
by other things
which will in turn
become familiar, too
a sort of nostalgia
set in
as I walked my neighborhood
today
and it being slightly overcast
added to this semi-gloom
but here is where
I have set up camp
and all my ships
were burned long ago
home isn’t always
where your heart is
but sometimes your heart
is where you settle down
to rest
what price to pay
there is no winning
here
just a question of
how much to lose
save what you can
let go of the rest
what doesn’t stick
was never yours anyway
forget what they told you
about yours mine theirs ours
about choices
roads to take taken
each leads to a cliff
the question is not to fall
but how far down
life is losing more
than you gain
a sad reality
people places things
all you really take
with you
is what you cultivated
inside
and if losing it all
to start over
is the price you pay
then pay the two dollars
and move on
there’s more to see
to do
to feel
and what did you think
it was about
anyway
it was always this moment
poised on the cusp
ready to step off
into one more lifetime
for however long
it lasts
what lingers: a tanka
the little things stay
a tug on the old heart strings
the body will sag
remembering what lingers
never able to forget
repeat mode
there you were again
in my dream
and I was helpless
to usher you out
stubborn, as usual
you stayed
long past your welcome
your smile haunting me
teeth everywhere I turned
and that way you have
of asking a question
ringing in my ears
I would like what I feel
to be dead and buried
but it rises from the grave
like in some horror movie
though you would never be
a star in such films
which is the trouble
and I am stuck
in dreams
with you in repeat mode
echoing in my head
the die is cast
they say that the die
is cast and I will follow
where it will lead me
new places faces abound
finally a path in sight
on dreams: for NB
she tells her own fortune
in a coffee cup
looking for something new
in the grinds
she wants the world
to reflect her vision
but it sadly disappoints
I talk too much
she says in conversation
ideas beliefs tumbling out
she would remake
the entire universe
if she could
and can’t quite understand
why this is not possible
it breaks her heart
to think it is so
and though there is no consolation
for one so sensitive
there is always hope
the world will live up
one future day
to her dreams
this business of mine
the well is deep
and I ponder it often
especially in early morning hours
a specialty of mine
there is a lesson to learn
and I could should learn it
so I am looking sideways
upside down
then backwards
a complicated process
this business of mine
just trying to figure out
all of it
before the ink runs dry
the only place left to go
the future hangs over
everything I do
like a weight
an anvil, say
around my neck
or a cloud
a rain cloud
overhead
like some cartoon character
moving quickly forward
while a storm brews
the weight slowing my scurrying
toward shelter
though there is no shelter
apparent to me
on this, or any, horizon
oh well
what else to do
but stumble on
going forward
toward what can only be called
an uncertain future
the only place left
to go
looking at pictures
you’re there
in front of me
one dimensional, of course
but I remember more dimensions
the sound of your laugh
a kid’s laugh, really
but can we be held
accountable
for what we inherit
that smile
that always just happened
without planning
or thinking
a natural reaction
to life
around you
and your eyes
open, clear
looking at the world
from a distance
and yet full of mischief
whenever you laughed
the tilt of your head
the length of your neck
the way your left shoulder
dips to the side
there’s a sea behind you
on a coast
a faraway coast
a lifetime ago
your lifetime
and mine
in a world long gone
that I won’t be returning to
any time soon
Leonard Durso 