HERE YESTERDAY / GONE TOMORROW
after
the demise of a friend
It
gets dark earlier when you are my age, friend.
Time
hurries by and, oh, quicker than yours my days end.
The
olive, oil-less and black, like a stone, falls.
No
juice is left in sculptured figs or peaches on the stalls.
Sudden
goose pimples on your back, as if you are about to freeze,
pop
up even without the slightest breeze.
Flowers,
wilting in their own pots, look grave
when
a frail sun, like you, falls on the green, almost as brave.
The
cool cones of morning glory shrivel into themselves, like you, free
and,
like you, play hide-and-seek, one-two-three.
As
you descend the stairs of strength,
you’d say, “ better hold on to rails
or
you’d never know the way a balmy autumn day sometimes fails,
and
see how the evenings deliver the sweet sweat of the sea after dusk.”
Sea;
blue-gray, sometimes blue-brown, like decayed walrus tusk,
makes
your eyes water if you look at your past in it long enough.
Those
with loving hearts, like yours, are embraced by soil, hard and rough,
with
endless art, aspirations, dreams and softness only half disclosed.
With
you, we’ve known, all minds and ages are well transposed.
Yet,
around each corner and down every alley in this life, in this place,
alas,
my friend, with a steely smile, like a dagger-cut, across the face,
Death,
is unto everyone’s case,
Death,
is unto everyone’s case.
*
Very touching.
YanıtlaSilJ. Steele, NY