From far away

I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.

                                  The sun rose like a ball of fire this morning
                                  spiraling clouds of pink, yellow and orange  
                                  
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.

                                 A piece of the sun landed on my hand,
                                 burnt russet and gold, the color of autumn leaves
                                 stirring my limbs and eyes damp of tears
                                 
I remember you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

                                The journals are littered with pictures,  
                                letters and notes.   It smells of rosemary
                                and Chinese herbs.   My note reads:  
                                10th week, slow progress, nothing yet.     

everything carries me to you, 
as if everything that exists, 
aromas, light, metals, 
were little boats 
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 
                                                           
                               I gazed at the pictures, wishing we were boats
                               with the wind pushing us further into the sea.    
                               All over Europe and Asia, I battled against the clock 
                               to ease your pain. But it was like chasing
                               the hoof print of the shadow.       

The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land. 

                               The wind became weary of its travels and came home:     
                               bones became stones, cells raged in fury,
                               like black tide, restless and relentless waves. 

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.

                               After 10 years of waiting  
                               death came like an old friend.
                               As the light slowly faded from your eyes,                        
                               I whispered the precious words
                               as if you never left me

 
And you hear me from far away 

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - Collage and The Art of Cento - The left side are fragments of several poems by my favorite poet, Pablo Neruda.   The right side is based on my cousin's long  battle with cancer.   I wished my topic was little lighter but oh well ~ Thanks for your visit ~