I Am Nowhere Now. Poem by RIC BASTASA

papa loved the poor and he let them live
in his land
there was this vagabond.
he said he knew how to fish and papa bought him a boat
and the net
and the man lived
on the shore of papa's land
where coconut trees grow beside the sea
for they love salt.

he did not live that long to hear from them
what happened after.

the poor sometimes are not correct.
they are bound by their poverty in spirit.
bound by their tragedy when they were once children.
their trauma are chains of their afflictions.
unable to rise from their calamitous past.

papa became an alcoholic.
mama did not understand how this matter came into being.
they were like a river which changed course and
split.

when papa was buried i prepare the eulogy.
not much people. the poor were not there.
we were not that rich but papa always shared what he had.

papa wanted to believe that everything done turned
out good.
i want to think that he was right.

look at me, i tell the children by the sea.
i am that empty shell. Press me to your ear.
My song is strange and you will ask me where i come from.

i am nowhere now.