A simple thing, no simpler than this:
the rising, falling of a breathing chest.
When gone, nothing is missed as much as this.

Another simple thing added to this:
the rise-fall thumping of a beating chest.
A simple thing, no simpler than this.

One day he laid, displayed, without a hiss,
his movements stilled, in frozen final rest.
When gone, nothing is missed as much as this.

I stared intently, watching for just this:
a hiccup or a twitch, a laugh in jest.
A simple thing, no simpler than this.

The days we played and laughed in sunny bliss,
I never once took notice of his chest.
When gone, nothing is missed as much as this.

And since the lid closed shut, this much I miss:
a simple kiss, a hug, the warmth of breast.
A simple thing, no simpler than this:
When gone, nothing is missed as much as this.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

We caught him on film and there he will stay,
frozen in time with a smile on his face,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

This brother of mine--whom Death took away,
and hid him far off in a shadowy place--
we caught him on film and there he will stay.

When Death takes his mark, it's forever, always,
replacing a mass with the void of a space,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

Though normally Death is precise in his way,
with scythe and with time leaving none of a trace,
we caught him on film and there he will stay.

I'd rather Death took all our pictures away
and left my dear brother right here in his place,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

Yet brother's now gone, he's been taken away,
and though with these pictures he can't be replaced,
we caught him on film and there he will stay,
forever and ever and that plus a day.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

like times we sat in silence and we stared,
i come once more to share with you the sky,
we face each other, both our souls full bared,

i sit upon a stool and bravely dare
to do what's sorely missed, and with deep sigh,
like times we sat in silence and we stared,

i watch you 'neath your covering, so scared,
unable to speak out, though hard I try,
we face each other, both our souls full bared,

you watching me past covering, unbared,
we both look past each other, in mind's eye,
like times we sat in silence and we stared,

the words not spoken when we better fared,
are spoken now upon the growls of cries,
we face each other, both our souls full bared,

how precious, little time of moments shared,
is realized only when it's bid good bye,
like times we sat in silence and we stared,
we face each other, both our souls full bared.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I stand upon a precipice
and stare into a dark abyss
where subtle echoes faintly stir,
whose source's bright and warm allure
has brought me here with puckered kiss
for one whose soul I deeply miss
and if I fall into this hole
together we'll again be whole.


(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

It's ten degrees under the morning sun,
imagine coldness buried underground
where all he lays in is a suit undone,
in darkness where, to roving eyes unfound,
he could not grumble even though he would,
and ask to those who love him up above,
a blanket or a hug if but we could,
to warm the heart that always shined with love.


(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt--
the throbbing of the heart's unhealing burn--
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt?

I whine too much for one who's life's so curt,
when far worse lives are lessons to be learned,
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt?

for others have not shoes to wear or shirt,
and neither have they roof or floor to yearn,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt,

remains the fabric of their pants and skirt,
yet on my satin sheets I toss and turn,
so, who am I that I may moan my hurt?

I've lost a brother, in this pain I churn
my heart, my cries for him are always spurned,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt

is what we are, become, in time so short,
with nothing more than hope of a return,
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt?

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

my sickness--rusty nail that pierced my heart
it pins me to the shadow in pursuit
that tails me through the burning light of day
and swallows me in night's cold emptiness


(C)2001, Christos Rigakos