I believe that death is a natural thing, that we will die no matter how powerful, how healthy and how nice we are. All of us will eventually be sent to the "other side." There is no escape; it is only a matter of time, place and circumstance. Our body will die and rot and become dust. But knowing this reality does not decrease the feeling of loss to the loved ones who dies, to whom we shared our times but are gone forever.
This post is for the two persons I know of but is not here in this Universe anymore. Persons that I am not close to but persons I had shared some of time with. This post is for the mother of my colleague here in the office where I am a student assistant. This is for her, as my form of gratitude to her, of her goodness to me. Thanks to you.
This post is for the Dean of the College who passed away last Monday. One of my bosses who had been kind to me. The college feels the greatness of your loss.
For these two persons I dedicate this poem by Federico Garcia Loca
This poem is also for the people who were murdered because of their political stand. The people who keep liberty alive in our society. This is for the 835 who made stand against tyranny and was murdered. This is for Jonas Burgos, Sherlyn Cadapan, Karen Empeno, and hundred others who were martyred. Requiem to the people I know, and the great multitude who were annihilated by a reactionary administration.
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This post is for the two persons I know of but is not here in this Universe anymore. Persons that I am not close to but persons I had shared some of time with. This post is for the mother of my colleague here in the office where I am a student assistant. This is for her, as my form of gratitude to her, of her goodness to me. Thanks to you.
This post is for the Dean of the College who passed away last Monday. One of my bosses who had been kind to me. The college feels the greatness of your loss.
For these two persons I dedicate this poem by Federico Garcia Loca
Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.
The child and the afternoon do not know you
because you have died forever.
The back of the stone does not know you,
nor the black satin in which you crumble.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever.
The autumn will come with small white snails,
misty grapes and with clustered hills,
but no one will look into your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died forever,
like all the dead of the Earth,
like all the dead who are forgotten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.
The child and the afternoon do not know you
because you have died forever.
The back of the stone does not know you,
nor the black satin in which you crumble.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever.
The autumn will come with small white snails,
misty grapes and with clustered hills,
but no one will look into your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died forever,
like all the dead of the Earth,
like all the dead who are forgotten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
This poem is also for the people who were murdered because of their political stand. The people who keep liberty alive in our society. This is for the 835 who made stand against tyranny and was murdered. This is for Jonas Burgos, Sherlyn Cadapan, Karen Empeno, and hundred others who were martyred. Requiem to the people I know, and the great multitude who were annihilated by a reactionary administration.
.
Very nice poem. Unfortunately, I know many people that have died and were very close to me. But they are still alive in my heart, their spirit is still around and is nice to know that they care for me. Nice blog. Thank you for visiting mine!
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