the coin inside my shoes....
there is a certain coldness of our hands
which we want to feel alone
not wanting to share it because it may destroy
what goodness lies in
perhaps, yet this time, we are not yet ready
for the consequences that the truth may
who shall want a house that suddenly destroys itself
like the sandcastles of our shores?
there is a theory that things move from order to chaos
love fades away as always, people go to war and kill
their own kind, trees fall, water surrenders in the
dry bed, whatever that rises, bursts
whatever goes up, goes down, abased.
you know me, i give up, i raise my hands in surrender,
i walk away, and find new paths
new niches, where order and peace finds its new nest
you know me, whatever happens, i keep hope, like a coin
inside my shoes and i can tell for sure now that my
dead mother is still right....
Comments about this poem (the coin inside my shoes.... by RIC S. BASTASA )
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