At the Sea of Why

AT THE SEA OF WHY
By: Edgardo A. Cruz


As I go placid in the midst of failing moment,
Memories are just like clear water,
Refreshing my lonesome heart,
Giving me your traces, my love.

While I celebrate remembering your sweet smile,
My soul then was brought to life.
Your care raised the roses to bloom
And your tales with me is like an endless depth of the sea.

My hands were uplifted to prayer.
Now that I am in love,
At long last, I was loved.
For a moment and that it was,
I thought I was loved,
On every ebb, even for a chance,

I have mistaken your smile for liking,
Your care for loving,
And your mellow talk for respect.
I thought that on every shore you understand me.
But it was not.
You were really not there.
Everything was lost.

Yes, I did not print on the sand the words I love you,
For I thought the water would wash away the love and go to rage.

And my name fell.
Hence my acts will tell, more than I care,
I have worked at the sea,
Without any words of complaint.
I was there on every tide
To help fishing the values.
My voice every splash is not for ire,
But for brewing emphasis of the water.

It kept haunting me.
I was left alone at the depth of the sea,
It was dark. It was rough.


So, farther as you wanted to sail away,
I said to the ernes, you are free.
For I am of no hope,
No light and no love at all,
As you said it with the winds.

I asked the sun for the truth.
It shed not shed light.
I asked the moon for hope.
It did not appear.
I asked the flowers for charity.
It did not give colors.
I asked the sea of Why,
I am not loved.
But it did not answer me.

Now that it is over,
My heart is no longer waiting.
In state of sadness,
My heart is again buried in clear water,
Alone and dead.

/eacruz
2Why
14 Feb 95

Silent Time

Silent Time
By: Edgardo Arevalo Cruz

In this tacitstorm of my life,
No pacification of sense of injuries,
So pointedly trusted to my sadness
That an instinct of me
Moved my spirit to unsettling freedom:
Diverging in a different direction from normal life:
Indicating solid but soft diverse of ego
Under plights of my bent self.
As I offended against my respect,
I sailed to the mighty sea of Why,
At the birth of where I came.
Asking, do I have to be like this
By which my self a taunting piece of others?
Do I have to bear the sorrows of solitude
That I cannot even turn to somebody
Whether I am with joy or with sadness?
Oh, great Why, do I have look for myself
So that I could find solutions to my envious self?

With pestered act feeding my embarrassment,
Do I have fraudulently change in form of myself,
That inside practical of me,
To indicate the manner of me?
Oh, Why, do I have to sing my odes of life
That is really so tragic to bear,
In this silent time of my life?
Where can I find in you a peacecure
To the last point of my weak spot?

You have given this to me, oh compassionate Why,
Tell me what to do, delight my prayers and touch me,
Take it away from me, if not, get me.

In a hush deceiving, they said, when, too long.

/eacruz
2silent
16 Mar 95