It Will Be Done. Poem by RIC BASTASA

not everyday is worth
the take,
or the talk even,

there are times when
everyday is just
everyday,

we simply let the hours pass
with nothing to reap
nothing to tell
when we meet again in bed
after dinner

just like this moment
when we are here in this sameness
we share a bed but not our
bodies anymore, or at least
we share a conversation,

my day at the office with
tired stenographers who steals
some nap minutes after a hard
day's trial

i share their woes, but i never
show it,
after all i am the leader of this
pack of wolves
and i must keep a watchful eye
a feet of quick sands,

what makes the difference is
how perhaps i think about the
coming days,

i have this prisoner to set free
and he had been languishing in jail
for years without a visitor,

this woman deprived of her kids
this boy molested by his uncle
this corruption of innocence
this unfinished business of mine

how i wish i never die
how i wish i have never been born
how i wish i can fathom well
the meaning of my world,

but it is not just possible.
now i share a nap with impossible dreamers.
it will just be short and never enough.

but it will be done.