Midwinter – Eva Weggelaar

Midwinter – Eva Weggelaar

But Midwinter will come anyway;
the sun will turn black
and there will be no day,
only cold, till the sun comes back.
And after a white winter under a black sun,
it will all be gone.

All except the outlines, roots, and seeds
of that which truly belongs,
that which fulfills needs
and sings the old songs.
After a white winter under a black sun,
all else will be gone.

It is written in the snow,
outlined clear and stark
I’ll follow you wherever you go,
deep into the dark.
A white winter under a black sun
won’t seem long.
In every Paradise
you find traces of Wilderness;
you may close your eyes,
but you will learn there is beauty in this.

Reaching high and digging deep, there is a tree,
the essence of which no storm can defy;
there’s nowhere I would rather be,
knowing that only the rootless die.
And after a white winter under a black sun
it will be so strong.

The beauty of the blossom is not diminished
just because the breeze tears off the petals
what has started shall be finished
even if it takes a thousand lives, or battles.
The white winters under a black sun
will have made us strong.

© Eva Weggelaar

Art: Splendo Solis, 16th century

A Golden Ball – Eva Weggelaar

A Golden Ball – Eva Weggelaar

If it’s a fairy tale…
Then I shall play with a golden ball,
and roll it till the puppets fall
All their mirrors shall break in two
when the clocks start ticking as they used to do
I shall have the old light here
and their stage shall disappear
Oh, I shall wear a silken gown
as I watch them all go down, down, down

I’ll be your continental bride,
we’ll feast there side by side
Champagne, crystal and candlelight,
at the ball where we shall watch the puppets fall, tonight.
Toujours, le Vieux Monde sera notre amour’

If it’s a fairy tale…
Then I shall play with a red, red rose
till the puppets are strangled by their prose
It shall be the old moon that I greet
when the ground crumbles beneath their feet
All their shadows shall whither like lies
while I watch the old sun rise
Oh, I shall wear a silken gown
as I watch them all go down, down, down

I’ll be your continental bride,
we’ll feast there side by side
Champagne, crystal and candlelight,
at the ball where we shall watch the puppets fall, tonight
Toujours, le Vieux Monde sera notre amour
Recasser, retrouver, retourner
Toujours
We’ll cut the wire,
those whose limbs have turned to wood will stoke the fire
while the others call the puppeteer a liar
and each time we rise one step higher
Toujours
le Vieux Monde sera notre amour
Recasser, retrouver, retourner
Toujours…

© Eva Weggelaar

The Thief of Time – Eva Weggelaar

The Thief of Time – Eva Weggelaar

Procrastination is the thief of time
so in my imagination I’ve long since made you mine
The wind is your breath that brushes the nape of my neck
those chills down my spine are your fingers running over my back
All the sights I see
are really picture postcards that you sent to me
and in the mingled noise of a crowded room I hear
your voice that murmurs in my ear
Later in the rain stained window of the car, I see reflected
your face next to mine, a picture perfected
I use these images inside my head
the faded photographs I see at night in bed
But when morning comes along
I know that everything is wrong

©Eva Weggelaar

The Solidity of Sound – Eva Weggelaar

The Solidity of Sound – Eva Weggelaar

The Ferris wheel at the end of the street
its lights refracted by the rain
spins around, driven by the need
to give substance to a passing refrain
Well, I’m waiting for time to turn
in a game that relies so heavily on fate
though soon the lights will cease to burn
and my watch tells me it’s late
So spin round one more time
and tear away the veil
to give reason to the rhyme
and find truth in a fairytale

I’ll go down on my knees
and whisper through the door
all my verse and fantasies
to change reality once more
The black and endless nightmare
that would ride right over you
will be made to stop and stare
rendered helpless as it sees my dreams come true
So let it spin around
give solidity to sound
till I can dance on my own ground
Spin around

©Eva Weggelaar

Illustration: Kay Nielsen

November – Eva Weggelaar

November – Eva Weggelaar

After the warm and crowded train
mist curls around you
just passing through
with nothing to explain

Through the cracks between fog and frost
the space between falling leaves and a wet street
looking for someone to meet
around corners, opportunities, lost

A second-hand café
serving hot ginger tea
and another memory
that mustn’t slip away
Only when it’s near
is it good to be alone
so you try to catch it on the phone:
don’t leave me here

The scent of smoke and vanilla fills the air
as you keep moving around
going over the same ground
after something, surely, right there

Not waiting for the last train
an empty shell
waiting for the bell
unable to explain
©Eva Weggelaar

And I whisper all your names – Eva Weggelaar

And I whisper all your names – Eva Weggelaar

Spring is balancing twice twelve hours
the air whispers that good things go far
In the twilight bare trees collect their powers
dancing in the headlights of a car

Surrounded by dusk, tables form lit up little islands
inviting me to a drink, a cigarette
Offering a liminal resting place where I can fill the silence
with memories of the things you said

I wish I was on your mind
like something that’s always in your pocket
Kept safe as a propitious find
or a picture in a locket

By the time the night turns grey
dust whirls up in an imagined room
One last cigarette and nothing to say
long fingers of smoke caress the gloom

I look at pictures in empty frames
and I whisper all your names
©Eva Weggelaar

I’ll leave it to you – Eva Weggelaar

I’ll leave it to you  – Eva Weggelaar

My custom-made mythologies
My unspoken apologies
My put-on happiness
My cloak of fanciness
My pre-packed suitcase
My unworn lace
Everything to make you see
the world I paint with what you gave to me

I’m the picture in your frame
painted with your signs
the illustration to your lines
bearing your name

I’m the way you described me
a character in your book
living only when you look
following a plot that I can’t see

I think with your mind
see through your eyes
breathe your sighs
in a world where I’m blind

You see, I keep thinking there must be something I could do
but the storm chased my horses far away
left me in a pale vastness with nothing to say
and I wish I could leave it to you
©Eva Weggelaar