Each Poem That You Are Reading

each poem that you read
is a product of painful eyes

from the excruciating grief
of the heart

from those exhausted fingers
still moving till nigh-time

the writer is a psychosomatic bleeder
so you see no stain whatsoever

it is only when things are too near
that you feel pain and acknowledge it

but when you travel and create distances
from yourself

when you drift like a cloud
(the usual cliche for drifters)

or perhaps a raft on the river
along the surges of cagayan de oro

you begin to see the most beautiful shape
of that struggle

a cheek smoothed by the flow of tears
soft hands massaged by those pains of the days

cautious lips, open mind, a heart that is finally set free
by the candidness of your thoughts

no longer entrapped by the words that you left
tied on those yellow sheets of paper

from that silent room where smoke hangs
on the ceiling.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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