IN THE TIME OF THE HOLOCAUST

(Ater reading " The Road" by Cormac McCarthy)

go to another country where the moon
pines for a meandering river
the sun longing for  a flight of birds
in a sky of utmost blue
it is a season when papayas are in bloom
but the tree is a barren woman in the spring
of her life--gone are the stars in her eyes
it is a season of harvest, but the farmer
rues--his work animal has long been dead

an old man walks on a beach
strewn with ashes and dead fish
it is sunset, but the voices of urchins are muffled
the land is bereft of sound and life
it was the year without the typhoons and the rains
and death is alive in the silence where once stood
the great forest and mansions of rocks.

go to another country
where the sun rises in the west
and the moon weeps at sunrise

and we? we shall search the ruined cathedrals
comb the mountain city that perished in flames
and finding none, we shall descend into the canyons

of memories.