The Children Of Silence. Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is the unresolved conflict that will make us all

restless. No one wants a solution.
Solutions can be judgments. Do you react about
something terminal?

what will you do when you wait? Think, Think,
it is tiresome, it makes the body a very useless structure.
It shrinks like a deflated balloon.

it is this restlessness actually that makes us creative.
we thank God for this. Our house is incomplete. Who has a house
without stairs?

When i visit an old place, there is this shock
that the river is gone.Where did the river go?
Again, the hands of man, let it go.


Disappointed. The child stays in the house of his mother forever.
HE has no dreams. His fingers hold upon a needle and a thread
creating once again a heart of silk.

it is the unresolved conflict within us that makes us whole.
we are so restless, we dream of sand and shore and waves and foams.
we travel with the ocean, we drink its depth.

we are the children of silence. We are destined to write.