The Writ Of Amparo Poem by RIC BASTASA

when you leave this place
everything finds no use for me

the home crumbles into a house
doors lock themselves like silent lips

what can i do with a house or an empty chair?
it loses me and i drift like everyone else

moving from one place to another not finding
the seat of comfort

where is rest? it is not found in the map
there is no church
no cottage

all the people that i meet do not speak
'no english', no word, no syllable

their heads turn, their arms fold,
their feet dusting me out from a lull,

when you leave this place
it will be gone and when you come back

what you will find is the darkness of the sea
deep within its womb of deadly coldness

its unfathomable silence
its cruelty in the depths of sleeplessness...