#poem, NEW YORK

I heard the chanting voices of Babel,
and memories surfaced of the days
when I painted green the shadows of Manhattan.
I had once painted skyscrapers in your garden,
and wondered if this island was our shelter.
Will we sink our raft of dreams?
Can we still swim?

Destiny’s siren’s song lied to us and lead us far from home.
Time’s reclaimed the past and we forgot our loves.
Where they real. the memories?
Or old tattoos?
Was it just a pleasure cruise we took on hope’s tall ship?
The one Manhattan’s rocky shores destroyed?
Did the East River’s winds rip through her sails?

Whatever happened to the days when we would sail upon dry leaves
that floated carelessly in the autumn wind?
Whatever happened?
Now as I step upon the sky filled with the fading shadows of home,
I am amazed at how they cast such skyscrapers
over those green pines, cedars, and oaks.

And I no longer hear the tearful voices that in Babel sang, perhaps, a song of praise.
I now wait for the sun of Indian summers in the pouring rain,
‘cause blood and skin burns with the light of dawn and I fear the pain…

There are no islands in Manhattan’s seas to shelter one from storms.
No siren ever graced these rivers that caress that ancient rock
where nightly lie forgotten drunks.
The old tattoos of sailing days have faded
in the midnight sun of brighter days,
And sad words fly in autumn’s winds ‘cause all the leaves have blown away.
.
So let us reminisce and raise a glass of chardonnay,
under the brilliance of that woman on the bay,
and pretend that this is home, here, ‘neath the earth,
where hide the shadows of the steel and glass trees of the city.
We smile, for we’ve another bottle to uncork
amidst the memories, lights and the green shadows of New York…

C.2024, Francisco Bravo Cabrera – 04 May 2024 – Valencia, Spain