for Maria

you want to ask,
knowing in advance,
the answer is a scream
even if it is silent traveling,
on a frequency transversing,
that humans cannot discern

so strange is it,
that the imposition
of the interrogatory
is the almost harder part
of the two dance partners,
question and answer

a simple
"how are you"
is simply inadequate
in every respect,
it is almost,
disrespectful

for there is no how or are
and for sure, there is no
you anymore

how could there be,
when pieces of your flesh
by hot combs inquisitioner pierced,
levying cuts impervious to
medicinal magic

asking
how was your weekend,
beyond absurd,
what matters the day of the week,
when the unrepairable ailment of thy soul
has a permanence that makes
calendars superfluous

but on certain days,
certain worse than others,
because they freshly dress
the still red scars,
fresh bright pained painted with
unrepressable, unsurpassable memory agonistes
of seeds and wine

so you ask dumb,
you ask blind,
waiting for a
shotgun blast reply,
hoping you will be
the forgiving kind,
but prefacing the inanity with
a forgiveness plea confession,
"I don't know how to ask"

and you reply
"there is no correct way,
and
there is no correct answer"

and neither the interrogator
or the interrogee is content,
the Yankee boy and the Southern gal,
unless it is to scream,
till the air in the lungs depleted,
and when replenished,
having screamed to the heart's content,
the heart impaired,
cannot ever be contented

your own insane humanity prompts
to ask again, no matter,
for the only correct thing
is the asking~caring,
even though advance notice
has been given,

**there is no correct answer

~
in our book of tears you’ll find,
a lifetime of memories now fixed,
a colorful kaleidoscope, pages in time,
loving tributes from those left behind.

so turn each page, oh so gently,
for there are times we cannot bear the pain,
were it not for this hope that we cling to,
knowing we’ll see his face again.

each lament composed in great sorrow,
every poem & writ in deep grief,
pictures our hearts have tenderly framed,
of one we no longer can touch or see.

tear-stained pages, every token,
each unique, full of memory,
though they cannot return our brother and son,
help our hearts to still, to beat quietly.

for though battered we are not broken,
for though bruised we are not torn,
our hearts we know you've not forgotten,
held together our spirits are yours, Lord,
in your grip, our spirits are yours.

~

(a lamentation for Maria)

~

call me Mara,
no more Maria;
nothing but a hole
where ‘i’ once was,
for life has dealt my heart
a raw and bitter hand.
do not come too close;
weep with me,
but from a distance...
my losses could rub off
for this may be endemic;
a cause any other,
too hard to understand.
i do not know how i will cope,
how i can bear this burden.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.

my sons were two
and for any more
i would have never asked;
yet they have left
and now my joy,
my future dreams,
my happy hopes,
wind in my sails
has all but now
been dashed.
love...
i thought i knew it,
but now it seems
that all i love
is stripped away from me.
weep with me,
but not too distant...
my losses won’t rub off
this contagious only seems.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.

call me Mara,
call me bitter,
share my sorrow,
hear my never-ending sobs.
if any hope remains
i pray you hold it close,
hang tightly to your dreams;
my hope is gone,
replaced by sour herbs,
libations poured
have all been changed,
a tinge of myrrh it now contains;
reduced to tears
my song is lost,
except this sad refrain.
weep with me,
hold me tightly...
my heartache won’t rub off
i cannot bear to cry alone.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.

Feeling numb, even blind, i am deaf,
i don't want to move or react anymore...
i feel my soul depart from me,
it moves, light as a feather
skimming above deep waters...

my eyes have this fixed gaze
as i drown in a river of tears...
I have wept unceasingly,
day and night....

my feet....

they struggle, wading on sad waters,
the current is harder to deal with, this time...
The sand underneath, softer,
I am
almost sinking....

angels, good souls surround me
easing pain, watching,
pulling me up, so i may not go deeper...

i know,
i feel their love...
but the hurt,
it is all over me...

i am torn between
pain and duties...

i feel the
space
of being alone,

because...

i want to be alone,

to sink
lower

deeper.

~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~

b u t,

this sense of selflessness,
it prevails...
for their very sake....
i must be with them...hold their hands...
lead them through...

they, that surround me...
they are, what's left of me,
they are...the rest of me...


it is most transparent...
i could feel it... now...

there is joy...found in pain...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I am here
You are there
Between us
Lies an ocean

A darkening
An overwhelming
A never ending
Hurting pain

If I could take it
Take and drain it
Make it go away
You know I would

Let my arms be your sea
My heart the deepest ocean
Let me drown your sorrow
If only for a little while.

r ~ 5/19/14

A Dialogue....


I promised I would pray for her and her loved ones
Here I am, just starting to talk, in silence...
Instead, I find myself assailed by questions,
You are an understanding God, never exacting,
Never angry, I have never questioned You,
But today, I honestly ask You:
Why is this happening? How could this be?
How could You have allowed this? Why?
When will this stop? How much longer?
Have mercy!
Have mercy, please...please...
Heal their sorrow, this pain, make it end...
Make them stop, the leaving....
She has lost one, two already,
The tears may now be dry,
And yet, she, they still cry....
How hard it is, to cry without tears.....
What has been done cannot be undone...
So I beg You, please, make the hurting stop,
Let them be healed,
Give them Your miracle....
Now....


Forgive me, my Lord, for questioning Your decisions...
Forgive me for even thinking of questioning you...
I know I am silly most times, but,
Thank you, God, for always listening...


(For Maria )



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan