RIC S. BASTASA


The Numbness Of Being


sometimes we feel
we are trees
birds roost on one of
our nights
and early morning
even before the sun
shines
upon our leaves
we already experience
a series of
departures

and because these
departures come in so many
forms and
colors
soon we become so attuned
to all

pain becomes a natural thing
like rain
like leaves falling
like winds coming
and then going somewhere

and we have the courage to say,
'who cares? '

Submitted: Monday, March 10, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Topic of this poem: HAPPINESS


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