Explanation is for those who deserve explanation.
I explain nothing. My face, stone mask, is still.
There is only the sea, the wind
Off the sea, the longing
Some yet call the Holy Spirit.
He who deserves explanation
Does not demand it. Wants no debtor.
He demands, king of silence,
Only my hand, only a meeting of eyes, only the long walk
From the quay through the old quarter
To our lodging, like us,
Cheap, dangerous, and free.
Tossing coins into fountains
And gulping wine from filthy spouts.
Explanations are for those who need explanations.
The city does not need, has never asked for mine.
The city has no past, but only image.
No flesh but only bone.
The city tricked me, once, into speaking.
Into making me a bride.
But love is patient, love is kind.
It gives, always more, to those who have.
Everyone keeps asking to explain it.
I couldn’t explain it if I tried.