The Love Is Flowing, And The Loved One Keeps On Living. Poem by RIC BASTASA

there are paradoxes in that
aparador,
more ironies are still lingering
in that iron
heart,

the girl that dances on the
floor leaves here the marks
of nostalgia

tight and smooth skin of the
dancer, the scent of youth,
the laughter of the uninhibited
reverberates in the
living room of the family
who is already shattered into
pigments of sins and
errors,


or indifference, and to that extent
that irremediable hatred,

it could be the lullaby that we must
hear again
to solve this riddle, this confusion
of meanings.

a room with seven rooms for the seven
children
the big room and the marital bed,
the exclusive coffee cups and
the silver spoons
and golden platters,

everything is disintegrating.
fabrics cover nothing.
the most valuable plates break
and the treasures are gone.

even the tall trees fell.
the rocks move.
the rivers claim back what they
had given.

and so i open my hands to all these
nurture, i embrace change.

and i do not trace where i come from.
the roads zigzag and the cliffs are calling.

it is at this moment when the heart rests.
the mind is like a child in mother's bosom.

and then the milk is the best memory of the
tongue. The love is flowing, and the loved one
keeps on living.