I don’t want to hear your voice, criticizing 
how I wash the dishes or cut the squash 
I don’t want to see your silhouette, walking
Forever more down this path

I don’t want to remember all the times 
Spent beneath the sheets
The laughter and the yelling
The sudden void beneath my feet

I don’t want to remember the before
The after or all that was lost in between
I want to forget your face, all your faces  
Let them return to the shades of memory

This patchwork of scents and longings 
A mosaic of shadows on the wall
Permeate my living thinking breathing
And hamper the universe’s call.

02.11.2020 

Hilma af Klint, The Swan, No. 1, Group IX/SUW, 1915

Stiftelsen Hilma af Klints verk. Photo Albin Dahlström/Moderna Museet