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Sally A Bayan Mar 2016
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^  ^Diaspora ^  ^
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a jumble is taking place
in the small wilderness...outside my window
all night creatures...even the trees
join in the survive
they could never go against the swooshing rhythm
of the rushing kingly wind.

as i am tonight...lost in my own wilderness
i feel so limited...turning left to and fro
as sparks of thoughts and images...come and go
scattered ***** bouncing here and there
from corners and walls of my room
now, they're here,
later, they'd disappear.

mind is a mess...bright ideas, scamper off
fleeing from their temple...their home
refusing to be captured...

simultaneously, some known sounds
the cries...the envisioned giggles and laughter
of familiar voices, are now hidden somewhere
have sought refuge some place else.
faces...names...smiles...words...good spirits,
one by one,
slowly, have gone...

...there is only the damp darkness
of a emptiness...
created by an absence
of inspirations
of people who give inspirations....but, have left
some are about to leave
thank God for those who came back,
missing fellow poets...good friends...and their works
missing the placid waters
that once surrounded us

i miss reading...feeling the sweet music...the rhymes,
the free verse of good, wholesome friendships...
of kindred spirits in poetry
in poetry...where we all started...where, in one way
or another, we all have metamorphosed...
i believe, i know...our paths didn't cross for naught.

::: ours is a small world...existing within a bigger world :::
      ::::::::::::::::: there needn't be a diaspora ::::::::::::::::::
        ::::::::::::::::: i miss us ::::::::::::::::::


Copyright March 11, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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