TEXT 1 Z 17
WEEDS – Prologue
My eyes knew before I did.
They were watering themselves with tears,
as if they were already reading the sentence,
which has not yet been written.
What did they glimpse?
Your fear?
The world you choose?
That you will never call me Radúz again?
They knew how you would choose beforehand.
The body accepted your choice even before
you spoke it.
That is why the tears fell
like confirmation of something
that had long been sprouting inside me.
Why then doesn't it hurt
what I feared?
Is silence consent
to your goodbye?
Is gratitude
another kind of pain?
And can anything end
without ceasing to be real?
My eyes knew before I did.
Now I just gaze into the morning,
which will come and I do not know,
whether I have lost something,
or finally just seen what
I had right in front of me all along.
