For B... Poem by RIC BASTASA

so you have felt finally
that you are alone: your brother after he married
built a wall around his wife and
daughter

you can hear their exclusive laughter in the other room
and when the light there is finally turned-off
you can hear even the whispers of love
that you have not met
before

the hands of love
drive you away

you turn off too
the only light in your room
and the war within you begins

there is that regret that mocks you
there is the passing time that appears like those leaves
blown away by the last month's typhoon

you feel like a tree robbed of all those leaves
with some twigs bent
to the utmost you feel that pain
of being
uprooted

moments reversing themselves
like the back pages of the
book
with a vast topics
arranged alphabetically
which of course
you have no desire to
carefully read

you feel this horror of all horrors
loved ones
abandoning you
with their bags full of
clothes

those thicker walls that suck their conversations
like water siphoned by
a thick cloth
oh, how you detest each layer
of indifference

the whole night you never sleep
but for now
you are a little bit triumphant in this exhaustion
these eye bags
must posses a noble purpose
perhaps to educate you more
for the coming days
of more empty rooms
of chairs that accumulate dust
of carpets that accommodate more ticks
of those breakfasts
left untouched
on the table with unchanged covers

no more tears in this war
between you and your hidden self
as you wait
for the promise that soon
there will be a harmony
between loneliness and
survival
between the fingers of time
and the slippage
that you do not care to account
anymore

well, you assure yourself
'outside i still have my own secret garden
it is mine and mine alone
my brother's children cannot enter
now, his wife in truth
is not my sister
and what i must remember
truly
must only be my name
yes, i am',

you write it.