Untitled 14

sometimes i find comfort in my silence
i am listening and
then i pretend i am listening and then
i continue pretending until then that the talker
sees that i am already showing that i am no longer listening
that i am no longer interested in whatever is said
that words sometimes have no use to ease the pain that we have
that we have inherited from the leaves of our family tree
from all of them down to the last and true source of our sorrow

when Adam gave the apple because he says Eve asked him to do it
because Eve was ordered by the Snake because they were all innocent
and dumb.

sometimes i look at a space
where there are no more trees, no sky, no sun
sometimes nothingness becomes the real thing: everything.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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