This morning just before I woke
I passed by him.
In the crevasses of his leathery face
I could see trails
eroded by tears and crosses.
He was on one knee
in a shop whose walls
spoke the tragedy of his life.

He wept in great sobs,
reached his hand to touch her lifeless face
and remembered how he’d held her
after the early death
of her lover.

Now it seemed he had lost it all.
Even his own life
seemed not worth the work
and he was ready.
Ready for the land
all the preachers had promised him
in all the funerals
of all his friends
who had gone before him.

Now he finally understood
the meaning of the words
his daughter used to sing to him
in fine imitation of her tragic rock idol:
“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

07/02/2011

Posted on 07/02/2011
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