Some Notes Of Catalunan Grande Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is this old road that
i always remember and then
i go back to it
wondering if it by itself
shall also change somehow
i pray to the
silver sky that i may not
recognize it anymore thinking
that i can be free
at last
but it is a hard road and even
if the rocks and thorny roses
have all been taken away
by some adherents for
a reconstruction of its
face and body
it still wears the same face
of a very lonely woman
with a pointing finger
at me and full of guilt i bring
it flowers
and it offer it some of my
old poems which are
like rusty nails
not fit for any joining of
wooden planks
to make a stair
or a beam for a new
house
it is here where you hear
children laughing
but of course
sane as you are
you can not insist anymore
that they still
live here
for they all died in the
places of your
memories
and now like all these
walls you must endure
the deafness of
a prolonged
emptiness