Saturday, January 24, 2009

An English Poem


It is night.

I watch the coldness.

I rejoice in this absence of desire.

The sunken eyes of wisdom

are watching winter’s arrival.

It is not that forgotten cup of coffee I yearn for.

It is not warm cover or sweet surrender

or passionate love affairs.

I do not yearn for such things anymore.

I yearn for things I have yet to see.

Where is that old heap of desires?

Has it been washed away?

There is a clock that sings

and a bird that ticks.

There are unrepentant shadows,

burials that never materialize,

ghosts swimming up the river,

looking for comfort through waves of reason.

Farewell, I say, farewell,

as I return slowly to myself.

© Ernesto González, 2009

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