Bjarrine

Bjarrine 11

A village lost

a name forsaken

from lips and from maps

all what remain are stones

the wood ceilings have rotten and fallen

exposing the houses from within

What fate has doomed these people

the rambler wonders

 

And yet these barren stones

are more truthful than the standing houses

they are sign of a decayed civilization, one long gone

Living villages trick you in thinking that the past is still there

but it’s not, it’s not

storm after storm have carried away people of yore

bringing new seedlings to the lands

The people dwelling in the houses of their ancestors

are alien respect to those who built their walls

And if one wants to see the civilization of the past

Bjarrine is a good place to start

 

 

You once asked me to share with you pictures of the villages of Lebanon

because when you tried to imagine them, you saw houses of dark stones covered in moss

and here are the pictures I’ve unearthed for you

some taken in summer times with baked grass covering the stony hills and misty clouds of warmth in the sky

others taken in winter times when the grass returns to life and the sky is clear and blue and the landscape becomes smoother and gentler

 

Can you feel the breeze of the sea on your skin

can you smell the flowers of Spring that color up the valley in yellow

can you feel the softness of your grass under your feet

and the whiteness of stones piled into walls and arcs that time hardly touches

 

Will you join hand with me

like I have dreamed so many times before meeting you

and walk together with me

in the land of my dreams

 

Will you give me this joy

of showing you how I see things

and complimenting my vision with yours

 

For the first time, I am picturing this scene

you and me alone in the middle of a forsaken hill

looking in one another eyes

losing in one another gaze

everything that disappears around

everything that reappears with a renewed intensity, with more vibrant colors

we look at the same scene and we take it in together

 

My eyes blur with tears that don’t want to go out

my head cracks with a blockage that doesn’t want to leave

and through the cracks in the wall I see your eyes again

and your face is not very far, beyond the veil

 

 

Bjarrine 10

 

Bjarrine 8

 

Bjarrine 5

 

Bjarrine 12

 

Four à chaux