AGE IV

The angles of the Park’s beauty are terrifying
Plumbing hidden dimensions of its topography
Intricacy of its underside stretching into darkness
To hold, nurture, leafy outstretched limbs to light.
Sitting near an ancient trunk, I miss the point
As my mind is preoccupied with trivial things
Wondering why those abusing power feign
Ignorance of the minions shouting protests
Do they believe somehow that truth will tire?
Laying down in cynical despair, their blank face
Maneuverings only mask their own sad fate.
Suffering lately, nervous pain that surfaces
In the sockets of my teeth, provoked deep
By anxieties, wounded roots, the assault ignored
Buried deeper, minefields still not trodden.
Some trees here, stood when I was born
Many others will be here after I have died.
I will have passed as a long breeze of summer
The curtain of my heart will have been lifted
All will be illuminated on that open stage
A love so precious it is protected by metaphor
Who has probed so deep a soil to pass me
The lantern here, a light to fill the looted absence
To find evidence of trauma, to apply the needed balm.
 
c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
     March 18, 2007
     Palmares, Costa Rica