Her face I knew

I had lost to mortality

but in another reality

even if I worked up

deep anger

against untimely loss

of love

it still sits inside me.

 

If I cannot find her face

in front of my mind’s eyes

my fingers reach

for a ballpoint pen

immediately:

The graphic search goes on.

It had never stopped

since the tragedy in Athens

where numerous works

of my art had been lost

due to human ignorance

and greed.

 

Outcries of my soul had

never stopped –

Orpheus in the underworld

looking for Eurydice.

 

Her face on my canvas

in my kitchen domain

my soul flies to her

false door of her tomb

every night.

 

zoltanzelan

©ZJG-POetry’17