For Miguel Poem by RIC BASTASA

when you left
there was this delusion of white mustache
this baldness that is too consuming
for those who want
to be always young

i was then a little boy
crying on a velvet blue sofa

i was aware of what was said
from grandpa's mouth in fact

there were scribbles in my heart
like some claws of birds

you do not have to come back
to point me the way you passed

i am still aware about those pains
having loved solitude

there was this party in the house
when i was sixteen and there were hands

slapping your face and i too bleed a lot
having known you much better

on your deathbed
i am still aware of the things to come

i know the secret passage
and along the way i pick you some white flowers

it is bouquet of flowers that i must offer to you
because you understand my pains too

this is our world of pains
we exit soon only to be parted again

and we say we understand the flight of the fireflies
how their lights are drowned by the rain

how the leaves finally find solace
in the silence of utter darkness when we finally find

the truth of this existence
the life after