The Latest Sadness... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is the spontaneity of
the moment that makes us write
what we think

it is this vent, this bursting moment,
when a light is switched on
and you begin to see and say and since
there is no one here whom you can
share you speak to yourself just like
the way tolstoy's character in lament
spoke to his horse one wintry day in
russia

where is the idea taking us? i like to
say that it has taken us nowhere and that
is the best part of the excitement until
you land to that same place where you left
and you smile at all these foolish
shall i, say, awakenings?

that is it. no matter how long and tiresome
is the procession when the candle is put off
by your own breath, you return to the church
to look at those icons and statues and to
hope that someday, there may be a content to
what you think had been empty.

it is this: you listen to the nice music of the
tango that you play on you tube but you have
never managed to another dance, well, simply
because there is no one to dance with.

and so it happens that you are so in love with
this music with the memory it is bringing you and
so you dance alone with eyes closed imagining once
more that you have a partner whom you have dismissed
a long time ago, with its latest sadness.