Back Home Then.......

the plane
touches down
smoothly

a few seconds
i look at the river
winding
in murk

the nipa palms
have water
on their necks

too much water here
back home

it stresses
my mind

sometimes i think
this world will end
with so much water

that we all drown to death
that waves as big as mountains
come to claim
our lives

i am back home then
whatever happens
it does not matter anymore

i will say it to myself
we all die anyway

what time
and how

it does not really matter
i am back home
and we are still on

missing each other's
arms.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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