By Rado Gatchalian
You wake up with everyday’s extremes
of not knowing and fully well;
then when a broad daylight
pierces your broken heart —
you look afar like a blind foe,
you quit, and stop, and think,
and listen to a music dear to a weeping child.
When the past is a memory of shattered pieces:
you dream for stars that shine in the shadow,
but where shall you keep such glory
when all hopes that nourish your soul
become a dust hiding quietly in the dark?
As you declare triumph over death:
remain where you hide —
where no souls can hear your voice,
not even the anguish of your saddest poems,
but when you arise after the third day and night,
whisper the truth to all listening ears
and tell them: “Be not afraid...”
Now that you rebel against the tyranny of fear,
revolt because right is always right,
and love can never be opposed by silence;
if only you come near to every dying poor
clasp their arms and let them feel
the warmth of a warrior whose only prayer
is a hope that tomorrow everyone becomes free.
As death comes nearer to a young poet,
not everything in you shall die,
but when you are forgotten
do not pity nor weep endlessly,
among the stars in the sky
you glimmer beneath the clouds
awaiting the twilight of joy,
and you wrap your body among the gods
whose desire is solely to celebrate beauty.
Source: FB/The FILOsopher
