If death is separation, my life is
lifeless, its stygian stream showers
of tears, love fonder and more dear
hope held before the flood, time heals
yet opens wounds of yearning
fondness in absence ascribed as cause
valid only to assuage; then that stream
becomes a sea, tormented by hurricane
or withering heat in doldrums listless
illusion broken by buffeting squalls
a tender heart taken to its limit to bear.
Where is the remedy to close that rent
Satisfy the longings, cure the ardor
leaving death to die, my life, then to live?
- Jan G. Otterstrom F.
April 10, 2009
Palmares, Costa Rica