Estrangements in Some Other Time

(For Josh, who commented graciously on my poem,

"Friday Blessings")

You see, this whole thing

About distances

Is not even material nor physical.

Neither does this come

Around in circles

The way eternal time

Grips us so, holds us hostage

From here to there

From now on and in the future.

In reality, boundaries lead us

To crucial crossings where there

Truth begins as always,

This truth about who we are,

Beings all heavy with everyday chaos,

Personal and/or public

As is the case with poems

We write with our spurting blood

In all the vibrant verses

Or what we take them to be

To account all the potent energies

That fail us sometimes,

That betray us in places

We search for the metaphors

Or another spirit unlike us

Or another tale of woe and awe

And wonder, the tale enthralling

Us to go on and move on

And look no further to keep on

Writing that which liberates us

From the prospect for a life

That promises pain and pathos,

The pain to keep us less than alive,

The pathos to keep us less than dead.

These are the estrangements,

Traitors all to what we can be,

Connivers with the evils of distance.

With our poems, we create

A universe fresh and new

And we all reside here,

Poets and dreamers

Visionaries and prophets

Rebels and peacemakers

And all those who are just

With words, with healing words.

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

December 9, 2004

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