RIC S. BASTASA


Despair, i know you do not like the word


I know you do not like the word
Its color its scent, how we relate it to something black
And smoky and ghastly and ghostly
Some say, red is the color of despair
Others say it is like black coffee because
It does not make you sleep
And make you curl the whole day in
Your dark room without wanting
To talk to somebody and just be there
Alone by yourself, pondering, almost crazy

Not yet anyway, so you go on a compromise
Grey is the color of despair
Dusk, or dawn, or something dawning yet
Like an idea of a suicide unhatched
Delayed like an egg still undecided whether
To hatch or not to hatch and face the world
Of chickens

Despair, what is so big about despair
No big deal, it comes to you whether
You like it or not
As a matter of necessity, face it and state
Its name and stare and say, I muster this
Despair, I am its master and not its slave
And then, when you know all its particulars
You know what to do
Kill it and if it is not killed yet
Well

Well, well, just learn to live with it
Sleep and with, make love with it
And well,

Have kids with despair and call them
Their names: the usual, the normal and
The everyday. And just be prolific.

Submitted: Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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