By Melissa Roxas
news of your death arrives
like so many unmarked packages
no to, or from,
just the anticipation
of wanting to know
why, when;
this box carries
news I never want to hear,
another death of a friend,
of a comrade, irreconcilable loss;
there are unfinished conversations,
messages to you still to be sent…
it seems more of these packages
arrive every day…
death can be so unpredictable,
we can only be assured of the moment
never anything before or after–
the before is a memory, the after uncertain
in your short 33 years of life
you have given to the world
what you could give
your talent as a writer
your words
that gave so many truths
that people in power wanted to bury
I remembered when you came here and interviewed me
you asked what I thought of being surfaced alive;
what do I still know about living?–except
there are many more things that need to be done
and now with your death
it reminds me more people need to take up the pen to write
the stories that the world needs to hear
the ghosts that won’t rest until their stories are told,
to remember our thoughts are free,
The last time I saw you, you helped me
translate one of my poems to tagalog;
just yesterday I prepared a mini anthology of poems for you
to read while at the hospital, some favorites of yours like Neruda,
introduce you to the poems of Komunyakaa…
but they arrived too late,
like this poem
it arrives at the end of the marked page,
becomes an after-poem,
it reminds me that the moment
is all we have, and we choose
what to do with it,
that we should choose what will make the difference,
yes, during the best years of your life
you have given to a cause you believed was larger than yourself
you wrote those verses that mattered, gave a voice to people
who needed their stories told,
and wrote from your heart.
You faced death with a knowledge that only comes
to people who have dedicated their lives for the cause–
an assurance that even after your death
the revolution will live on with the people,
and for you that was enough;
you will be remembered my friend,
you will be remembered.
September 3, 2010
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