either all is read
or
every once in a while
all is said
your bed is made of
jasmine petals…
who knows?

first you are conceived
then given birth
they put you into a cradle
and you start to flourish

your bed is
where you rest, sleep
dream and fantasize
one day you meet someone

this time you make your own bed
and lay in it/
give and take
and flatter yourself
as if you lived

then time comes
and you die
did you live?

this is it
live, give then die
only when you sigh
i bet you, you are
going to cry
it is like lying in a death bed

questions comes to mind
memories start haunting
one by one
passing in front of
your eyes
like a film

the bedrooms, the gardens, the graveyards
they all look like one another
if you lived and gave
you will remain where they will lay you
if not you are screwed

if you heard the beauty
from the inside of me
you write
don’t you ever forget that?
beds are like books
tales are told

some of them are boring
some are fearless
some are wonderful
the importance is
stories are told

if you believed in
four books
done good deeds
until rebirth

you’ll end up sleeping
in the ground
that’s where your bed is.

Gunsel Djemal London -2004