No matter who we are
how well we've prepared
it seems there's always some unfinished business
when it's time to go.
And when we go we leave our physical remains,
body and stuff all accumulated in a lifetime,
but we leave deeper traces too,
our face or sayings or gestures
burned into the memory of those we knew
especially of those we loved.
But eventually our time does come;
slowly, suddenly
what difference does it make
when we are gone?
Today I miss you bro',
but whisper to you,
"Go in peace, go with God"
a most gentle breeze to speed your way.
(for Rodney - 11/25/21)
Milton's goodness was a beacon shining bright
His humanity steered him to what he deemed right
With a soul kind and pure
His words will endure
Through a bright blessed day or a long-troubled night
12/31/22
Rest Well Milton
reflections of life
sanctified with God's glory
the price of freedom
One day, when she’s dead,
And your heart is broken
By all that was said
Or was left unspoken,
You’ll stand by her grave
And you’ll lay a token
But you never forgave
With those words unspoken.
That night, in your bed,
The thoughts that have woken
You, swim through your head
Like the swirling kraken,
And you’ll once again grieve
For she who’s been taken
But you’ll never retrieve
The words unspoken.
© Barry Freeman - 21st March 2021
In memorium
He put his rifle safe,
pulled up the blanket
against the cold.The Spring
rain dripped in rivulets
down his trench wall.
The blossoms of the hops
would be just flowering
back home. He dreamed on
of the girl he met on his
last leave. In this
hell on earth, to dream
was to live, for a few
moments; to escape the
monotony of this endless
unreality. The face of
his mother, filled this dream,
Harriet was crying, whispering
her love; hopelessness had
permeated his last letter. He
awoke, suddenly with a start,
It was time; the big push
was on. The ‘final battle’
the officer had said. Perhaps
I will be on furlough for harvest,
he thought, smiling inwardly,
day-dreaming for a second
or two, he joined the line.
‘Into your hands O lord’ the
Padre’s murmured benediction
the last words, he heard.
How do you celebrate
a first anniversary?
How do you commemorate
365 days
of life?
No ivory, crystal
china or gold.
Simply one year of
survival in spite
of your best efforts.
There will be
no party, festive
and light.
Only a quiet
Private vigil to remember
what was truly lost
and the sacrificial lamb.
Blood for blood.
At the end of this day
one year later
I shall grieve for
the lost little lamb
but celebrate
Life.
March comes again in haunting tones,
Time echoes plain of ash and bones.
Truth tells of fate in mortal trips,
It's not too late to get a grip.
Your days like dust are over now,
A humble trust lives on somehow.
Yours was a time of peril then,
You wrought fine chimes to make things grand.
A year has lapsed since your demise,
With a new map we greet surprise.
This planted tree tells tale profound,
A people free feel safe and sound.
Rest well dear heart from weary toil,
Each to an art as success soils.
Leon Enriquez
04 March 2016
Singapore
Skin and bones,
And the muscles straining---
I'm sorry, brother,
For your painful self-loss.
The eyes that had
The spark, silver-blue,
And the smile that held
Your life---drained now.
The silver ran down
Your ghost-thin cheek,
And you said that you were tired.
You lay back,
Like a fragile bird
With a body too heavy
For its wings;
Your breath was like a butterfly,
Flitting;
Your empty eyes, that last night,
Searching first, gradually still,
And you said that you were tired.
I had never seen you so pale,
So still,
Never witnessed the final hours;
I had expected it would come
With sweeping dramatics,
With sudden gloom,
But it was soft; it crept
And purred,
Nestled close, and whispered
To you.
And, in the end,
You smiled, and accepted---
All you said, that last night,
Was that you were tired.
So it's to say as much as everyone
eventually
finds a room to live in
(my friend perhaps sooner than others)
When he walked out though
out on the town
with generous courage
confused a willing joy
When he met our eyes
out on the town
with his runaway own
waiting to share room
I was sorry then
sorry now
Not remorseful then
not now
but hoping hoping he had a friend in his room
So gone running to meet a friend
(a great throng of friends to my mind)
who waited just outside
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