Every death
I have felt, or known,
In silence, i mourn,
Within my breath...

No words come upfront
Just thoughts, preponderant...

I'd feel the freezing cold of an empty space
Feel the absence...clearly imagine a lost face
No smiles, spanning from cheek to cheek
Eyes, seek answers...
suddenly, I'm there by the shallow water of the creek
While some nearby creatures quietly chirp...and squeak
While I......... I could not even speak...

Living,
Is realizing...and accepting
At the right time, they turn brown, the weeds...and reeds,
But, under the water...waiting, growing...are their seeds
Brown ferns...are almost detached from a mossy concrete wall
With a strong current, and wind, they'd be carried...ready to fall

The driftwood lying by the shore...is always wet, but petrified
Brown fallen leaves, on the green grass...no more hold...crisp and dried,
The dead bark of a tree...in pieces...are crumbling...
Merging with the wet earth...in a process of fertilizing
Deep down under ....a fresh spark of life is starting.
All these, remind,
Life and death stand side by side,
That in the midst of death-
Something new is birthed...
When faced with death,
there is always someone's living breath
And, as long as the heart wills to beat
Then, life.....will still exist.

Hundreds, or a thousand times,  
We all have died
In the high and low of life's tides,
Physically,
Emotionally.

We remember
Those who have left
Those who have survived..are still around
We think of those who are next to leave,
Waiting for their chests' final heave

---And then, we think of ourselves---

Worry not of our own time
Make each of our remaining days
Be golden, beaming, and bright
With good deeds, and straight pathways

The earth is a moving circle
It makes a round.......as it spins
We try to live outwards....and then, within
Any way we live it...life is an endless cycle.


Sally



Copyright March 23, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Some times
We freeze
We stop living
We stop thinking
We become blank

We forget our surroundings
We become blind
We forget to remember
We fail to react

We die momentarily
In dark space
We come across
Such small deaths many times
In our lives
Especially when whom we consider
So dear and near
Depart us …



Seems like we are lost for ever,
even when we are in the midst of a crowd
When we lose the energies of those who are nearby
When we fail to connect

We feel the emptiness of the complexities that surround us
The work that has been done, remaining to be done
Does it really matter what we do?
Or what we live for?

Does it really matter that we live?
In the vast timeline of the universe
Where do we stand?
The infinitely  negligible
Portion of the man in the entire universe?

in no sense, don't make dollars to donuts, for what

you be, causation of grief, and grieving, of parents dis-
believing, of siblings, now lonelier or only children, the list goes

on

and on,

to my horror, that you make war, taking away child-
like play times, balling up the air from lungs and replacing it with fire,

                                                          ­                                  so much ire

                                                            ­                    so much more ire, in
self-appointed masters of a three ring circus,

poison seeds always find fertile ground, as that

is what dirt does,

seeds and dirt, with your toxic oil-less spill, you pack up your

tents and take it to where the people are, living their lives, too

intent on making ends

meet, that they don't see the clouds of dark-
ness, like some mythical monster which is only

talked about when there is a death toll,
                                               tower bells toll,
that they could be ringing forever in your ears,

(until they and you both melt in hell)

and your ears hear the sound of children's voices,

laughing loudly at play forever clearly.
(read screaming for their parents,
                    through pain,
                          their tears and heartbreak)

surely you lit your own fires flames, using Newspapers

with stories covering your infamy,

too bad there can't be a media ban on the (         )
there is no honour in this fully your shame.