When There Is Nothing More To Be Done... Poem by RIC BASTASA

got a call and she is dying,
whatever that means
dying to see me
or dying to die
it does not matter to me anymore
now that i have burned all the bridges
and made holes of those wooden boats
and broke all the paddles
what then is going to be done
as a matter of
last resort to save what she thinks
is still valuable
inside our hearts

we are like those burned houses
early dawn with nothing saved
we see all the ashes and some smoke
still clinging on the charred pieces
of furniture and beams
of the past

'there is nothing anymore'
and i have not opted for those memorized prayers
those usual offerings of
chicken blood and pork
or the newly hatched egg with a squeaking chick
hoping that perhaps someday
the root cause shall be known
how the tree falls off and how the worms
begin their feasts
on our own stupidities.