Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Memory peddling on air through
cemetery park, ash, alder and elm
un-leafing of humble dead their dry
remains crackle rustle accentuating
the separation that I feel divided by
sea and long stretches of land, parts
of me fade then make a last flash in
autumn gold, yellow falling color form
holding to words as the days shorten
comforted not in the answers I have
given to life’s test but how I have lived
knowledge and character our eternal
inheritance as we strive to construct
order and preserve it, persevering even
though imprisoned in our ignorance
we see a world, our mind, in its limited
capacity creates: easily taken in by
nonsense accepting the authority of
their tradition, the massiveness of
their theater, volume and color of
their stage, the flattery of their words
gravitating to what appears secure
wanting to believe and find meaning
midst the fallen dead, lives in leaves.

  1. Jan G. Otterstrom F.

June 28, 2009
Palmares, Costa Rica