Remembering Mother's Song..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

there are so many things to be written
the mind asks

the mind begs to be excused from all these rantings
which it thinks is no longer artistic and perhaps not serving well
the noble interest of the masses

the loss of idealism and the insufficiency of future guidelines
as to what is beautiful and true

you outlive use. you raise your eyes to see beyond this fence.
it is always greener out there
the wind that touches your hair is saying promises

you are a tree rooted to your past. a black dog keeps on barking
till nighttime and you learned this numbness of the stone

the children keep coming everyday to tell you about the goodness of
their spontaneity. They play tricks and climb and break their legs.

the thoughts are harmlessly journeying on the terrains of the forbidden. it is still a secret that not even yourself dare to know.

you are like an old cabinet with lots of layers. Inside, inside, more on the inside.

morning has broken the spell of this misgivings.
you look around the beauty around you. Then you start a hum

until you begin to sing the old song that mother once taught you
when you were sucking your thumb.