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Poets' corner

Your Last Resume

Your vital signs have ended

and there is no sign of breath or pulse

to promise more

and what they see is what they get

and they put the facts of life behind

and open up your book to indexed pages

where all will know the age progression

and how you jumped through hurdles

to meet the blur of hope that awaited

and choked you at your first breath

then blinded you

when you first saw what was ahead 

your baby name

your report card name

perhaps your school activities and triumphs

and the years of scramble

satisfying the mysteries of love

and the requirements of duty and

then the balance of career and parenting

and what you did with others

and the time that it took to do it.

The photo is not you at all

but just a cover

for what you became.

Diego Santiago 30/7/07

Sounds of Head Trauma

Sounds rendered from within

unrestricted by the filtered frey

of elocuted reach

speak the bottom moaning

that resonates from depth

of being,

where each organ

is free to have a voice

and the body is talking

on behalf of the brain.

My senses stir

as if this were a language

that I should know.

Diego Santiago