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