Saturday, February 2, 2008

Before the Arrival of Spring

I can't wait, he said.
But I knew he could.
And would.
I knew him as I know myself. Yet
the white ground clouds my sensibilities
and Around habitual haunts. The drear realness of today -
Hell I thought but there was another answer -
She stood a cross
frozen in time on ground stiff with protocol
Sh-sh-shoulding on shoulders unaware
Selfless egos didn't care
Was I one of them or was the heart, my emotional package,
loaded with hope waiting
for another new thing, with warmth and promises,
when here you lie
and I can't say goodbye,
Not Yet.

1 comment:

mutti said...

It sounds like the poet is standing at a grave site at the end of winter. He wasn't ready for this person to die.


PS. I really like Baca's poetry and all the poets included in that Amer. Collection. How can I get that book?