Friday, June 08, 2012


Death is as shiny as gold and as red as plum
it makes the name of friends clear in your head
it makes the mother smile longer as if it is a dream
and fathers become the softest petals in your hand
this is the most revered quiet 
it is not sudden if you think it 
how everyday we think of shiny things and red 
as the days came by like sweet perfume
layer from layer of a life unfolding 
going to islands with no names
the soil is the prettiest dark 
the scent of it mingling with rain
think not of how they died 
think of how they looked like when they were happy
cling not only of memories but for their words
death is sweeter when it comes do not despair 
wait for your turn the bliss of reunion 

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