Sorrowful Tomorrows Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

There was just me in this game of sorrow
I was feeling the loss, the pain immeasurbly
as nothing could release the rage within me;
I knew, even if I had to empty all my treasure boxes
and offer food and generosity to the poorest;
I knew, even if I had to rip apart a huge forest
or offer water to the thirsty desert travelers,
I could still never bring back my brother to life;
he was gone so far away from the home he lived in,
he was gone so far away from the children he loved
he was gone leaving behind his wife, his old mother
I could not stop him from dying and eternity
but death itself could not separate him from us
he was our brother who held together our ropes of unity,
he will always be our brother who invoked in us
these feelings of care and concern for each other
death itself could not diminish this bond between him and us
for death brought memories sweeter than the
bitterness it causes;
the snare of death traps man to surrender his life,
his grace, his unity with his family in just one moment.
O' the traitor called death which finally created
an emptiness and an absence
in our hearts that love so well, live so well;
if only could I slay death for these incessant tears
I would have even crushed it in the concave of my palm
to stop this sorrowing, these rivers of perpetual grief
that hides behind those innocent eyes
and hearts of his children.