in keeping with the pyesta ng patay fever, i'm reposting this poem which originally appeared at naked scribbles. enjoy!
the birds
have fallen
silent
I cannot tell
the time of day
the shadows
playing by
my bedside bemoan
the passing
of May
you look
at me pallid
and shrunken
from across
your pillow
never thought
these curtains
could ever turn
this rotten
this yellow
the garden lies
unkempt
the fountain, dry
the gates rust
the leaves sigh
my breath heaves
gazing out the window
the sky is ashen
like your urn is
ashen, too
i look
at you pallid
and shrunken
from across
my pillow
you’re always silent
as the birds are silent
these days--
tenderly, unflinchingly
your eyes held me lovingly
yes, yes
it is time
3 comments:
engaging from start to end. from not being able to tell time to finally determining what to do at a time you've chosen, your poem leads us all on a journey.
For some strange reason, this reminded me of A Rose for Emily.
@ fine life folk - thanks fine life. the act of writing poems lead me to different journeys too. :)
@ Victor Gregor - when i saw the title, i immediately googled it. my, oh my. 2mayo lahat ng balahibo ko. hehehe. poem version sha ng first short story ni faulkner!
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