Post Scripts of Remembering
My mouth is full of rues
and my hunger is unstilted
My taste is chagrined
but as I look at you,
your luminous fist aloft
like a torch inviting moths
cadenced in propelling plight,
I can only ask for more
My emaciated wrists
and paunch contending
wager against these shackles
like how you've taught me
when the tides are high
and the sky is low
The building shades obscure
the shadows walking my path
and the bleared dusk behind
because my darkness is devoured
by the memory of your light
In the heraldry of trees,
like rivaling monarchies,
the seed that you planted
in my vociferous laments
is still the grandest -
its shade was once my citadel,
its resilience was my armada,
until it uprooted itself
and left a poisoned fruit
but its vines remained
forging on the sieves of the lattices
of our devised finitude
We are the architects of our
blue world and red esplanades,
but the farfetched erosion of the palette
is wielded with adamant obduracy
painting unconquered bridges
and torching its saturation
and with my insufficiency of conduits
I watched them topple and
evanesce with them to infinity
You and your ephemeral graze
is still trespassing
my unfenced soliloquy
and my daily equinox
You and your embrace
is still the scaffold
that gave me euthanasia
when death pleaded
and it's still my best death
I tinker myriads of false-pretense
like clouds titivating my forlorn abyss
riveted in my roofless skies
For I do not only remember you
I remember every infinitesimal thing
even the deadlocked wishes,
even you remembering me
in the distant yesterday
until remembering
is the only post script left.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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