I understand the books in the shelf,
Untouched. Covers gathering dusts
Pages turn yellow, words unread,
Banquet prepared by writers
Wasted to termites
Leaving disinterested heads unfed,
Hearts failed, voices neglected.
I understand the bud in the wild
That awakens at dawn,
But nobody drops a visit til midday,
Not a single butterfly, not a bee,
And wilts unnoticed at the end of day.
I understand the tree along the river
Bearing fruits all summer;
Realeases sweet odor filling the air
Inviting reapers, but nobody came.
Fruits dropping in the stream like tears,
Wasting her gifts again this year.
I understand the green patch of meadow
Hedged by dense forests, bordered by a cliff
Pruned by gazelles and deers
Year after year,
But nobody ever arrives with a mat to picnic;
Not a single soul carrying an easel reaches to paint.
Picturesque view wasted on the wilds.
I understand the sea-shells stranded
In a far-flung coast, unfrequented,
That the surf polish
And washed white by the brines
But no one comes to pick them for souvenir.
Encapsuled songs of the ocean
No one hears.
I understand the fate of weeds that grow
In the unwanted crevices
Of the concrete pavements of the city,
Sprouting to embellish her flaws
Cruelly treated, uprooted, tossed.
Seemingly, life undeserved.
I understand the child begging for mercy
Strayed in the maze of life
Without the guidance of a father.
Growing without a map to follow
With promising tomorrow to give,
But dreams wasted on vagabond.
I feel for the logs decaying in the forests;
Treasures lost in the ocean;
Shipwrecks forming rusts in the harbor.
I feel sorry for a bench
That awaits in the park
Comes sunshine or rain;
Pews empty on sundays.
Envelopes not opened,
Letters left unread, unanswered.
I understand the purity of intentions,
I feel for every little things
With so much to offer,
But are never given the chance.
Unanswered beaconing of the church bells.
When are you going to pick up
My heart’s calls?
Jeques, 2009. From his “Traveler’s Soliloquies” poetry collection.