Wind Bride

Without you my days are empty,
as if blown by the wind,
as if everything is swept away
like pieces of sand

into another place,
into another sombre world
where clouds knot through the air
melting into each other

and even some of the flowers
have the colours of your eyes
the winter grass
looks almost like your hair (only the colour differs)

and when you suddenly knock on the front door
standing there with rain and wind
stringing your hair
your arms shoot round my neck.

When I draw you in through the front door
your hair is swept against me,
while I am lost in your eyes,
and you are like Kokoschka’s wind bride.

[References: After the painting of Oskar Kokoschka. Windsbruid (Windy-bride) by H. J. Pieterse.]

by Gert Strydom

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