Another World... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is hard for me to learn
that you fell in love with a rebel.
in that kind of situation where
he had to be always in hiding
you have decided that marriage
is not necessary for your son
to have a father whom you really
have to marry.

it is a totally different lifestyle
and you know it but then the touch
of your child's hands make you
set aside all these fears.

you posted a picture of new born
taking your eyes with him
and the black hair and the
tight grip which you are
into.

i dislike rebellion.
to tell you the truth i lied.
i was never into one.

i have read every page of the
book in the library
read much of Tennessee Williams
plays which made me wonder
more and perhaps even lost in
the forest of loneliness
the source of all art.

our parents are too flexible
because of their love.
they have all become empty baloons
where we are air filling them
and they are taking our shapes
until they burst.

now what do we have? beside
our bare feet, rubber, useless
rubber,
wasted memories and
dried tears.

i had been dishonest to you
i was more into drama and literature
lost in the labyrinths of my own poetry
which was never poetry at all
but just scribbling of my youth
and now the markings of my overthough
of tombstone.

let me talk about death.
the one that you never cared about
if it happens.

for death is just a door into
another room.
a train ride to another destination
a waking of the eyes
to another world
where we no longer remember
names and places
as we start again to that grip of
a child
smiling to a mother's face
after having been slapped
by that doctor on duty.