Outside Our Silent Parasols
Your departure made shadows
inside this steel gray curtain
prancing with every step
like the flames of the sunset
swallowed inside the clouds
draping the unweaving of light
The rain plummets down
trying to furrow the distance
between heaven and earth
while veiling the complacence
festooned with false pretense
Because the obsidian eyes
casted downwards like the rain
is caught in a ponderous downpour
filling the empty basin I held
like a thirsty tree, writhing in time
And as I waded through little oasis
where your steps left a Doppler effect,
I listened to the orchestra of susurrations
and the symphonic percussions -
the minutiae slivers of our shattering
inside this nebulous weather
pleading for the decadence to halt
We wiped our wet faces and
recognized the old photographs
there is no reason to stay astray
under this eternal mad rain
And now that we took shade
under the comfort of our parasols,
the pall of rain marks on my shoulder
and its unlikely weight slowly
reveals itself to me as it
started to dry out and dissolve
The flummoxing tears suspended
and cringed to be dabbed
as the inclement wind sojourned
to listen to its trickling sound
but peace shove embarrassment
into its openly awake wounds
And the thunders still dislimns
the tersely woven conversation
and the lightning still blears
the deterred scope of visions
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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