Germina Melius Poems

Money

‘Go to school, study hard, the money will come.' John's father preached his sermon.
John did only one.
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You walk on moons, but I see pitch, and unpaved roads.
I walk on the crust of land, and envy ships swimming on water.
The world walks on its hurting soul, and on ancient bones.
Children bare feet, travel on unpaved roads,
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From the gloomy dust, I rise from Hades' spell to see the sun's glory on a splendid morning.
The inner man greets me.
Rise from the clay that binds you in the gutter's belly.
Rise to see your Father's radiant face watching the human soul.
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Her father's hands extend beyond the land.
Her hands are sealed like the mouth of his vault.
Trembling with every grasp, his wrinkled hands
will never find their youth.
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His hands are like the branches of a mango tree,
dispersing fruit to his neighbours far and wide,
their hearts elated, eyes tearing, tummies sufficed.
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When I die,
bury me in the sky.
Angels will read my eulogy
The Son will smile,
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Removed, the hands of dark clouds obstructing my vision,
rolled like a scroll to the edge of the earth.
The way where I walk is a slippery trail.
I stumble in my path with eyes set on that ball glowing in a distance.
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When the sun is fading like a flower,
like spring forgetting winter on a summer day,
enjoying grape juice or ice tea,
thinking of Basho writing another great Haiku,
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When the sun is a fading flower,
spring forgets winter on a summer day,
a taste of grape juice or green tea,
Basho recites his Haiku in an eco-green assembly.
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Weary sun
To the moon
Goodnight!
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