Home Again To The Arms Of Despair Poem by RIC BASTASA

the waves are bigger in the middle of the ocean of my dreams
i sit on the sandy shore waiting
here is distance unfolding
coming and leaving at the same time
the hands are powerless in this
no amount of concerns connects us
once again
even if i surrender to the grips of the night
even if the moon swears
to shine till dawn breaks

you come like a shadow of an afternoon Sunday
broad and firm and strong as you claim yourself
in a name carved in stone
you're marvelous like a comet at noonday

it is late and i am weak
my knees are bent to the ground of worthlessness

you run to the sea and plunge yourself
you wave your hand before that
dissolution or that diffusion into the forgetting

i am looking at the horizon
it is as straight as life wants itself to be
who wants to break the silence of a line falling
out of a page? the smoothness of an edge
finally denying an importance

and then the sunset completes itself
with your silence
in that single splash
as you gasp for the last single breath
of hope
there is no stranger coming as
a survival
there is no new born child to revive
despair

i think it is horrible but on the other hand
it is divine
i remember that stair into heaven
rosary beads they imagine
hurled by our Mother

i cannot remember how that Sunday ends
i will again say it ends with the splash and then the edifying silence
the rising of the clouds
the resurrection of the dimming light
in the middle of grief
when handkerchief begins to show a face
of thorns

let me stop and think awhile, a moment of silence
please, drink this cup of silence with me
this blood of wine

how can i tell you that there is this deleted version of the story
in trembling i arrive home and then i scream
that was at first
and i realize the windows are closed like a man without ears
there is no use for doors and doorsteps
the stairs have long been broken