The Last Flight Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is always a reason why a man cannot
cease writing
there is that denial of what was there a long time ago
it sits there like a statue
beside the door of the house
where the window is always closed

there is always a reason why the words keep flowing
like a river
why the river is always filled with running water
despite the drought

you see the bones of cows
the dust of the sands in the desert
it was once an oasis
where date palms abound where women bathe
with their men
where they make love
under the crescent moon

there is always a reason that you know
but you do not tell
but which i will always deny
as truth

it is this denial that keeps my hands going
like soldiers ready for a kill in that theater of war
it is this roaring lion that does not bite
that keeps me
in fear that keeps me speaking inside myself
there is no one here
there is no wall anymore

the winds are waiting with all the wings of the dead birds
it is ready
i am undressing
this is the flight.