The Writ Of Amparo
when you leave this place
everything finds no use for me
the home crumbles into a house
doors lock themselves like silent lips
what can i do with a house or an empty chair?
it loses me and i drift like everyone else
moving from one place to another not finding
the seat of comfort
where is rest? it is not found in the map
there is no church
no cottage
all the people that i meet do not speak
'no english', no word, no syllable
their heads turn, their arms fold,
their feet dusting me out from a lull,
when you leave this place
it will be gone and when you come back
what you will find is the darkness of the sea
deep within its womb of deadly coldness
its unfathomable silence
its cruelty in the depths of sleeplessness...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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