Poetry of the day

Growing Up

It happened when we grew up .

Earlier it was always possible

to get back to friends together

on decisive matters in a day or two

– like if you manage to spit

upon the shadow of a flying eagle

it will not , after all , turn

into a gleaming gold coin ,

or horses can sleep standing up ,

or girls are quite different

but are human beings still –

and , clean , go to sleep

of a reconciled universe .

Growing up , growing old, afterward

has been made up of going away

in various ways

of friends and everyone else ;

piling up of decisive matters

unreconciled ; turning of sleep

into a long season of waiting –

like an exile in this universe .