Phenomenology of nostalgia

after “La Creación de las Aves” (1957), Remedios Varo

It can be beautiful and solemn
to walk in empty rooms, in search
of the place where your body
first touched the edges of ruin.
In one of them, a creature works
at alchemy: refracting the light
of a star through a prism,
sustaining an orchestra of
crystals. Why do you not
believe? Between the iron
vault and a labyrinth
of squares, is it more
important to wake the sleeper
or to work in diligence, coaxing
wings from the coppery medium
of your blasted heart?

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.