In Our Loneliness

as we trek upon another high mountain
when darkness sets in
when food is scarce
when paths erase themselves
with the rain
when the rivers do not have voices anymore
for a song
when we warm ourselves around a fire
deep in the forest

you finally find time to imagine a guitar
that you once had in the city
a precious property that in here
you are not even allowed to carry
because strumming any of its strings
can become too dangerous

to please ourselves we too imagine you playing it
we too imagine ourselves singing with you
that song of freedom, of love, of a humanity
that selects only those whom they think
is fit to survive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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