to the poems of my dear friend
donalou
==========

Mount Nebo, October 1999

From the edge of the world
Where now I stand transfixed
My heart about to burst
With beauty and with love
A gentle gust of wind carries
Across the Valley of Indecison
My whispered words
On these evening wings
Surrounded by clouds of doubt
Misplaced and out of time
Without support or promise
Only presupposition
The merest shadow of hope
That you might understand
My intention....

Angustia

A veces me siento
Que ya no puedo aguantarlo
Pero yo se que es cierto
Que no hay nada de nuevo
Sino lo que es común
A los pobres y los ricos
A los hombres y las mujeres
Los que nacieron
Amararon y murieron
Andando por lo mismo
Por los pasos del pasado
Y no había mucho de socorro
Para ellos de antes
Ni para mí
Ya sufriendo
De la soledad

Anguish

Sometimes I feel
That I cannot stand it
But I know it is certain
That nothing is new
But that which is common
To both poor and rich
To both men and women
Those who were born
Loved and died
Walking in the same way
In the footsteps of the past
And there wasn't much help then
For those of before
Or for me
Now suffering
From loneliness

Time

Another Spring
Another Fall
Upon the heels of Summer gone
And Winter settles in my bones
And chills me down deep in my heart
The Hourglass, once filled with hope
Now empties fast into the Past
Insistently now ticks the Clock
Incessant hands go round and round
The Sun comes up and falls back down
My life, the Moon, both on the wane
When Death knocks at my door at last,
He enters, an unwelcome Guest,
And brings with him uncertain Rest

The Mime

I watched a mime, with his sad-eyed painted face
Do his routine, the Imaginary Box-trap
Feeling all around, above, and to the sides
For a way out of his pretend prison
He groped silently for release

No one can see the box which imprisons me
But I know that it is there, more real than any wall
Of masonry, or iron cage with bars, contrived by man
With sadness in my heart,
I press outward to break free
Struggling silently to escape this stifling box

I grope above, below, and all around
And wrestle with the lock that holds me in
Trying vainly to undo these prison walls
So strong and secure, the fortress of stone
Enclosing, entombing my soul

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