Monday, May 7, 2007

Hora de Muertes (Hour Of The Dead)

This is the hour of the dead,

Let us mortals stand and stare…

You may shake your head in despair…

But, beware…

This is the hour of the dead.


Memories will come back,

The buried past will be disinterred…

Wounds will be reopened

Do you remember the lives of fire?

This is the hour of the dead


Stop running, face your fear

Look at your worst nightmare…

Things you left behind,

Things that you want to forget…

Will once again come and question you…

’Coz this is the hour of the dead


Is there something that makes you angry?

Is there something that makes you cry?

Is there something that kills you from inside?
Then you need to despair... ’coz beware

This is the hour of the dead.


Why O’ why did you herald this blackness?

I made you a part of me thinking you were light.

You stabbed me in a way…I cannot imagine

You brought back my long forgotten past

You brought back the hour of the dead

3 comments:

Apeksha said...

Hey dada...the poem is gr8...but thrs a sort of bitterness in it...nevertheless its professionally written...keep writing!!

Anonymous said...

You sound suspiciously hopeful..your eyes tell a different tale ... the undertone of your dark element is evident. Life isn't a game you play baby .. life is a game you are a victim of ... therefore the reasons for certain incidents will always remain hazy... brings us pain isn't it?And the pain is what made you what you are ...

HONEYBEE said...

I quote this from the Postsecret blog:

"Is there a difference between wanting to die and not wanting to live? I don't know. But I do want to sit on that bench with you, and talk."

I hope that defines what your poem made me feel.