ILL-FATED VISION

I see they are at the end of the journey,

closing the office.

They are my friends, acquaintances, some I even recognize

as former business colleagues.

But the features are changed, dressed with disinterest,

disenchantment, tiredness, maybe even a little sadness,

and despair, also a certain agony.

They locked the doors, the keys on an outside table,

none want to take them.

Visibly embarrassed and afraid, they seem ashamed,

as having lost their entire will,

not interested in opening the doors at the dawn of the new day.

Dear God, slowly I understand they are giving up on our world,

without the courage to start again the journey of the living,

the hopeful, who do not flee from the fight, the daily combat.

Where the manhood, the power and desire of past generations?

Where women, for suddenly I notice that I only see men.

Did they no longer want them, love them?

Where the beloved continuators of our specie,

mothers of our race? Are they dead, annihilated?

Crying of disgust, in deep grief, I cannot do anything.                    

I am just a ghost, a soul straying from the past, unpowered  

to shake and slap those inside this sad and macabre vision.

I am witnessing, live and in (pale) color, the nightmare

that haunted me while alive: depopulated earth, forgotten

and unremembered of all of us, our dreams

buried on infinite, soulless and dark space.           

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©

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