Life in Translation We use so many words to avoid engaging directly with the brutality of death words like passed and hospice but love and death are intertwined each would mean much less without the other it’s the boundaries of life that give us meaning the harshly finite world that somehow finds a way to still continue on its way without us and so we are a gift each to the other no matter the angle of observance that we bring to bear upon our journey across this life silvered and quiet as if through the blue of a mirror we catch the train from different stations but find ourselves within the same compartment collapsing into adjacent seats so much of life is random even if the clocks are stopped even if our narratives seem stalled at times we tell ourselves we can’t go on and Beckett laughs as we continue somewhere ahead of us there is an apocalypse but all we have is appetite all we can do is translate one for the other content in the threadbare mystery of our life together a bottle of bourbon a desert of rocks.
About the Author: Paul Ilechko is British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Night Heron Barks, Lily Poetry Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Stirring, and The Inflectionist Review. He has also published several chapbooks.
Image Credit: Léon Spilliaert “Landscape under a Red Evening Glow with Migratory Birds” (1919) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 