For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds
the tree in the garden
has died
what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves
below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting
we have become like them
hopeless for sometime
dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud
empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days
dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed
one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs
and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life
upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment
until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear
you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself
borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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