#poem, «In Central Park»

CENTRAL PARK

Who can change the course of history?
Who can stop the wheels of time?
Think you can?
Think they can?
Who is they?
And who are you to presume?

History is a mystery

Questions like these and many more,
bounce off the thin layer of surface water
that fills the depths of the reservoir in Central Park.
While it is quite necessary to investigate the lectionary,
Never should one doubt,
there are absolutes,
there are unchanging laws.

There‘s right and wrong,
there’s Ten Commandments,
miraculously carved in stone.
There’s the way of light and the way of darkness,
and you’re free to choose,
take your pick,
light or dark,
or take from both.

But human souls need human comforting,
We’ve all wandered far from home…

On a rotting bench, close to Central Park West,
sitting proper is Rosemary a retired secretary.
Her mind races from through to thought,
used to precision, speed and so forth.
But now quite old she’s not as bold and not as fast,
so when Augusts’ nights shine bright with Augusts’ lightning,
she still sits alone under the rain and
through her ears travels the rhythm and the cadence
of an old, old song, always the same.

I stood one clear January morning
near The Castle in Central Park,
and snow covered the ground,
I thought of summer
and not a question crossed my mind.

C.2021, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 20 NOV 2021/30 AUG 2025, València, Spain/Izmir, Türkiye