guerdon’s rest

ah, so you have found this place.
welcome.
take a seat, don’t be shy.
sorry if all i can offer are boulders and gravel.
but the view here is magnificent.
it was a long climb to get here, you must be tired.
my own feet are still chapped and bleeding,
but it was worth it.
i don’t mind the company,
such a view as this is better shared;
don’t mind my feet,
they will heal.
see the setting sun,
how it turns more golden as it drops;
the sea from here is visible, too,
like a silken sheet rippling with the wind,
and the wispy clouds like thin curtains
slashed by sunbursts
are majestic to see, as well.
yes, i know,
it took my breath away, too,
the first i saw it,
all the pain was washed away in that single instant.
and feel that breeze?
later on, it will gust for a while,
scattering the leaves of that single molave tree,
but it will cradle you asleep in the evenings,
like a lullabye,
and the rocks provide enough warmth and shade
in the nights;
the moon is bright here, and the stars,
and many times i lie awake
just counting the streaks of light,
racing them with my wishes,
and so far, i have managed to complete one.
you want to know what it was i wished for?
you make me smile;
what led you here, anyway,
if not my footprints tracked in blood?
look,
the evening is coming,
see how the colors race against each other.
i love how the last rays of the sun
shoot out like spears trying to conquer
the inevitable victory of moon and stars.
yes, it is quiet here,
except for the music of the wind,
and the faraway screech of a lone hawk,
and sometimes a sparrow or two.
hmm…?
oh, i’ve been here several lifetimes;
yes, raise your eyebrows if you wish.
i am glad you made it here at last,
by the way,
have i told you?
did you know i came here to be alone?
but i have found out,
it gets lonely sometimes,
being alone,
even among the splendor of beauty
and the universe unfolding above you,
it is always better to know beauty
and have someone to share it with…

and after a while you wish for it….

welcome,
i am glad you chose to visit me,
you may stay, if you like.

if i must dwell on things unspoken

if i must dwell on things unspoken,
then i shall let my eyes do the speaking,
but i must close them,
lest others read me and find out
the keening of my outsouled shout,
and brand me mad.

and with closed eyes,
i shall read the universe,
and with my burning tears lash out
to the stars,
their mute witness to these wounds
i fling back to them,
self-righteous forges of fires eternal,
they have been my sentinels,
but i have never known them.

and i shall clench my eyes tighter
as i dwell deeper into the furthest recesses
of the mind,
deeper and deeper i dive,
and i emerge in confluence with the galaxies,
i shall shout until my eyes burn out,
i shall ask my questions,
and i shall red their cheeks in shame.

but what can i ask that shall not break my heart?
even as i think of the words
my own shame overcomes me,
and i repent the deed undone,
except i know,
that the intent has been recorded somewhere,
in the illions of possibilities that science provides,
surely one of me put that intent to deed,
and bled himself with words unspoken.

and these clear waters that leak
from the edges of my shut eyes,
shall deepen into crimson,
and thicken as the waters of nile
in moses’ day…

if i must dwell on things unspoken,
then let my bleeding eyes shut wide tell the tale,
and judge you me…
i who do not ask forgiveness
(not out of arrogance
but out of my own incapacity
to forgive myself),
i who would not cry for help
(believing no one would,
anyway),
i who blaze in the bonfires of my vanities…

judge me,
and then…
either leave me in this darkness,
or help me open these eyes
again.

an even number

windblown,
i let the shredded petals go.
one by one,
plucked by my fingers,
i watch them as they spiral
to the ground.

one remains,
clinging to the pistil
held loosely in my hand.

i turn my eyes to you.
you simply smile and say,
“now you know my answer,”
before turning around
and away.

how roundabout,
your systematic process
of breaking a heart.

love song for one

maybe i am going about things

the wrong way,

i have fallen from being a paladin

and your tower is now as unreachable

as the sky with my bare hands,

unarmored, usworded, unhorsed,

the wilderness is lonely with the cry of wolves,

and your tower is high, among the clouds.

but once in a while

i chance upon a thorny flower,

and i pick it up to keep

for that one day when we finally meet;

they are beautiful in spite of their harshness,

and they keep me company on my trek,

my quest for you.

i have yet to face the dragon

that bars the way to your tower,

and then after that the wizard,

the one who kept us apart in the first place;

please forgive me if i take a while,

swords are hard to find nowadays,

and much is yet to be done to re-earn my armor,

and my steed,

but believe me,

i am going about things

the best way i know how,

and someday you will point out

things i could have done differently,

but i will not trade these scars,

because your gaining will be that much sweeter

for the blood and tears of this journey to find you.

A veces sangras como pétalos rosados

A veces sangras como pétalos rosados,
como pétalos que caen al inicio de la lluvia,
sacudidos con el temblor del viento,
estremecidos con la llovizna,
y qué frías tus lágrimas, qué desabridas, qué ajenas…

Vengo adelante pero tú me apartas a un lado,
vengo adelante pero me mandas lejos,
tu silencio se torna como rosas que pinchan mis dedos,
qué fríos son los arroyos de rojo que haces fluir,
y símbolos sobre símbolos se desploman a través de mi cabeza
como el olor cobrizo me abruma,
y las líneas en mi palma se convierten en un mapa carmesí…

Permanecemos apartados a una distancia impenetrable…

Parada a un brazo de distancia de mí,
intentas alejarte pero te sigo el paso,
intento complementar tu indiferencia olvidadiza de mi presencia
con mi atención más devota hacia ti…

Deseo haber sabido cómo acercarme a tu torre de marfil,
cómo perseguir a lo lejos las telarañas invisibles que te rodean,
pero no, saltas repugnada contra mis brazos extendidos,
ves mis manos como serpientes invasoras: maldad, garras,
y yo me acobardo ante la visión de tu miedo a mi tacto…

Pero como los pétalos rosados que tuercen en espiral hacia abajo en su caída,
todavía me sostienes con cuerdas invisibles
que refuerzan mi resolución y me haces regresar
para arrodillarme una vez más en la súplica,
un caballero errante antes de su santo grial…

Incluso si me destrozas en mil pétalos,
todavía alegre aceptaría el destino,
porque sé que la lluvia me justifica,
y algún día te percatarás
que este caballero no había sido nada sino puro antes de ti.

—
Spanish translation of “Sometimes You Bleed Like Pink Petals”

sometimes you bleed like pink petals

Translated by Yvonne Alcazar (4/8/08)

who shall call us to account?

who shall call us to account?

the earth groans beneath our feet,
the air grows thick with fumes,
and time…

what tales shall time tell of us, i wonder…
“they reached for the stars
and burned their palms”?
but my cell phone rings,
and this instant reverie is swallowed
with the last gulp, the thrown-away bottle,
and I join the throng of indifferent atoms…
never mind tomorrow.

new

the morning rose
quiet in the garden,
this garden of white,
of stone slabs and marble markers,
hiding unlife from prying eyes.

she walked in somber silence,
treading the path carefully,
taking her time,
heart-heavy, yet there
to fulfill her duty.

she found the place,
the silence echoing hers,
and in wonder she looked,
fearing the significance
of the absence of the guards.

and there, she stared
at the huge round stone
rolled to one side,
revealing the gaping mouth
of the white sepulcher.

effortlessly the salty pearls
rolled from her eyes, down her cheeks,
as she peered into the empty tomb,
screaming in silence
what, and why, and where…

and like a kite deserted by the wind,
she fell upon her knees,
her strength bereft,
weeping for the absence
of that which she came for.

the footsteps behind her
told her she was not alone,
and so she gave voice to her anguish,
asking for directions
to the presence of her lord…

and then He spake….

at one

justice! cried law,
for otherwise is chaos,
and order must be upheld,
and laws eternal be obeyed.

mercy! cried man,
for otherwise is impossible,
the flesh is weaker than expected,
and perfection in this plane, untenable.

the universe counseled together,
and championed justice;
no star, nor galaxy,
ever erred, they declared.
how claim you exemption, mortal?

the intelligences counseled together,
and pled mercy;
there cannot be justice unbending,
for that, itself, is a contradiction,
and is not justice.

and so the two camps warred,
each claiming right,
each claiming true…

and as they did,
a Light appeared where they met,
encompassing the din with a soft song,
and silencing the noise.

justice, the gentle voice rang clear,
and mercy,
can coexist, through Me.

and so it was,
with one hand justice was satisfied,
and with the other mercy was meted;
and law, and man,
were made to be
at one.

lapel

it’s not that i believe
that you are the name you bear
on your lapel,
of course not;
but that name is enough,
for now,
to remind me of your eyes,
eyes that smile with such a radiance,
i am stunned to see them;
and to remind me of your smile,
a smile that can conquer the world
should you desire it…

it is enough
that i can go home
looking at the moon, and stars,
and see this name
spelled across the evening sky;
it is, perhaps, too much
to wish upon falling stars
that i could get to know the soul
behind this name, this smile, this lapel…

but dreams are free,
and the evening breeze,
it sings your smile to me!
so i will wish,
and i will hope…
and we shall see.

bleeding

the moon is resplendent tonight,
like the omen of impending what.

i woke up after sleeping all afternoon,
saw the setting of the sun within the walls of my room.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
i wish it would remain that way.

the morning began beautifully,
the choir sang like angels; i was glad to be part of it.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
like the omen of an impending unknown.

it took only an hour to shatter the beauty,
a second to send the splinters flying.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
oh, how its crimson light shines…

sometimes, in some universe, i guess,
the prodigal is sent back to wallow with the swines.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
the scarlet sheen of its face is a wonder to behold.

i will have to retrace my steps, then,
and eat husks for a little more time.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
how it colors the world… how it sings.

someday i will walk that path again,
and finally be worthy of a welcome embrace…

the moon is resplendent tonight.
listen to the music of the rhythm of dripping…

someday, but not today.
how my fear mountains and threatens to eat me.

the moon is resplendent tonight.
i will let this scarlet sea sing for me.

tending blooms

ask me for blooms,
yet i will not give you any,
for my heart defeated me
and my fingers melted
in pity
as they were grasping the stems
to do the deed.

you call my reluctance
betrayal,
as if your very words
owned my choice,
and imprisoned my soul,
as if it is more divine
to make you smile
than to let the flowers shine.

even the little white buds
silently howled in protest,
not knowing who you really are,
misunderstanding my hesitation,
as if my letting them live
was an insult
to their collective beauty,
as if their fragrance
can survive,
plucked fatally
from their mother loam.

so ask me not for blooms;
not these,
nor any from the gardens that i tend;
bring your petal promises elsewhere…
politician.