the River of forgetfulness

But don’t speak of gardens.

Don’t speak of the moon.

Don’t speak of roses or the sea.

Speak of what you know.

Speak of the thing that rings in the marrow, that plays in your eyes with shadow and light.

Speak of the endless ache in your bones.

Speak of vertigo.

Speak of respiration and of desolation and of your treason.

It’s so dark, so silent, this process that grips me.

Just speak of the silence. 

- Alejandra Pizarnik