Late Harvest

I did not know that I had left

For when I came back

I became

What I had left

And what had left me

When the pain stops

Of that pain I still think

For I did not know it had left

So many lines upon my front

Like lines a harsh plow can make

Upon clay, rocks but give the hope

To harvest again

I did not know

That in the mist

Cotton-clouds get often lost

And upon lands of lavish green

They rain

... When the rain stops

I won’t go out

A world just washed

Cannot whisper the sounds tears make

When lips are dry

And time has passed

I could not know for I had left

A wound open upon forgotten

Scars

As a goodbye

When I came back

May 29, 2014

© Vahé Kazandjian, 2014

I took this picture handheld with a 1948 Rolleiflex Medium Format camera on ASA 100 film. The Zeiss Opton lens captured the shades of the setting with remarkable truthfulness to what my eyes had seen.