POEMS ON DEATH

Part II (9-2007)

Ode to Age

The old man, I watched him
trying in vain—to get into his apartment,
to open the door with his hands and key—which
summoned his brain, in vain;
not working with his eyes, at eighty-seven.

And there, there, in the yard next to him
a boy of ten, his grandson, playing with his dog:
two lives changing, like summer and winter,
rain and snow; one watching the other grow old,
ready to die; the other, youthful, hip to thigh,
loosed hair, waiting for another year to pass
so he can grow up fast.


Note: No. 1994, Daniel and Papa Augusto, and the dog Jason, in the backyard, while the author sits on the platform watching. The clouds in the sky, darkening, it is Wednesday, about 4:30 PM, 9-19-2007, Huancayo, Peru.


Death by Suicide
(…and a long needle)


Suicide is like a long needle in the heart—;
one trying to escape the slum of earth’s dark.
Not seeing the high elm above their heads
(and spring being not far off);
thus, they think to conquer life and death
in just one breath!
So many ways to die, so many coffins under
the sky;
dark shadows everywhere…so many pits
and flash floods in a normal life—
but after winter, there’s always spring:
too bad they can’t see it, from where they stand.

Note: No: 1994 (9-19-2007)

Human-trees


We are human-trees, born from the roots of others—;
with branches for legs and arms…,
we lose days in our lives like trees lose leaves
off their branches.
Water is born within us—.
Like bark from trees, we shed our skin—
and watch the weeds grow around us,
I call them bad-seeds—yet like trees
we must all live our lives out…!

No: 1993 (9-19-2007)