Going Back Home After Days Of Desolation

you hear the noise
of the day
drums beat so hard
on the city
streets
on a mardi gras

people march with the sound
of victory
upon a mass demonstration
of their
mobbing slogans

masks of faces
that you have not fully
figured
crowd the mall

outside
you hear the loud
screams of the heavy rain
the blowing horns of
the cars and
the jeepneys
on those rush hours
people are running
women are holding on
to their kids
from school
lights are turned on
blinding
your view

this is the horror of
the
daily bustle
the noise of
every day's struggles
the existential
angst
that no philosophy
can hide

time knows no one
and the hours
treats no one with
specialty

x x x

you rest your head
upon a green velvet sofa

and you remember

hearing once again the variant
bustles of the hour
at the center of
this huge mall
the sounds have turned into pins
and thorns
in your brain

there is no rose
nothing red nothing blue as a
cloud

x x x

when you finally go home
to the house that you leave
days ago
which you think
created the worst loneliness
dragging your life
like a steel ball
to your chained
legs and arms

x x x

you close the door
and then you know how beautiful
is silence
for now

how satisfying like water to your thirsty mouth
how comforting like the softest pillow to your head....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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