To My Friend Ador.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

before you go there
papa never fall short of
precautions.
and you tell yourself
i will be responsible
for i am old enough.
and so you go there with
all fanfare, there is a party
and with lots of friends
and other people.
It is time that gives you
company, and then you begin
to live and adjust with
a stranger, and with more time
the more she becomes more of
a stranger to you.
her face changes to something fierce
gone was the face of that angel
that you once met in the corner
of paradise.
and she becomes more of her natural
self, just like you
and everything about you is taken for
granted.
this is the devil called familiarity.
too much familiarity.
and you remember your dead papa.
and your dead mama, and you begin to
visit once again their graves to
listen to their respective silences.
and you believe them and you respect
the peace of their worlds.
white flowers surround their graves.
and green grass and blue clouds seem
bluer to you now.
you have become a stranger to yourself
too but you never want to die.
There is life inside you and you alone
knows it, not her anymore.
She creates all the problems that
she wants you to solve and then you become
fed up, like a bored parishioner of
the church.
you want to be alone, to leave and to be gone.
but this is not possible anymore.
you are old and dying and rest is near.
there lies the truth, it is bitter and
prolonged.
you go to the tombstone carver and
you write your name and you want the best
for yourself in that final hour.
let the letters be carved in stone,
let it be done in bold and gold letters,
let it be placed beside your papa and mama,
and let it join in their
respective silences.