After You Conching..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i would have been more gentle despite the strong wind.
i should have not minded the waves, that day when you have finally
arrived at the place of rain. It is cold and then the road has turned to mud.
The child in us wants to go out and be restless
or relentless, but we had been grown up as trees
pruned in all the coming of the wild seasons.
after you Conching, i too left the place for there are no more reasons
given by the books.
When i stepped on that old bus bound for Campo Redondo
i left a letter.

Love there was carved in stone, but I do not wish to find it again.
I was told a child got angry and threw that stone in the depths of Caninga,
and it was never found again.

For no one, no one, ever found it to be significant