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Friday, April 17, 2009

A Finale for Yesterday

Goodbye

1

on coming back to the end
the memories stand up
in recognition,
faces standing out
in a crowd of apparitions,

yesterday's cohorts,
the last part of everything
gunning for a hello
in a showdown of sorts,

but the end takes cover well,
for no one knows
the last part of anything,

the thing concluding
is never neatly presented
with an adroit last word,
or bullet to the head -
unless it's your own.

2

sometimes the end is cut-off;
abruptly sown, unfinished,
a symphony of the absurd,

sometimes the end is unheard,
important stopping points
never warned by a bell -

but no one can know
the coming and the going
or the purpose or direction

of the end. It is the end.
It's a pause that fell,
or a stop, or possibly not,

for finales can be trains
that pass by without signal,
not even a mournful ringing
for yesterday's knell.

3

the thing to do
is to let it come and go,
no matter the signals
that were missed or
didn't blow;

it's a dip too low
to be covered -
a silence stands
as a solitary man of war
in a jumble of ruins:

any quick return
has the memories gunning
down hopes in tow,

for a finale is not the place
for a stay, not for anything
but a last goodbye,

a true finale is an ode
to farewell to what was good,
to what was bad,
to what was everything,
but now is yesterday.

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