Sunday, October 14, 2007

Father Poem

The Book of the Dead
a poem by Biff Russ

In Egypt, they wrote
On anything –

on the inside of coffins, of eyelids,
on the inside

of their own skin.
They sent their dead on a river of words,

to an afterlife
where everyone dwelled –

the innocent,
and the guilty,

and those who were both.
They took their bodies with them,

And their shadows followed them like children.
Father, you were a bitter man,

But there was grace
In the way you lapsed

Like memory at the end –
Like something


Forgiven. This is my solace –
It is not my body

For which we are released.
It is the soul

Which is lifted from us like a burden.

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Blogger CRISTIAN CARLO said...

ang bigat. nakakapanindig ang imahen.

9:40 PM  
Blogger frank cimatu said...

biff russ's father is a laborer and he probably wouldn't be able to decipher what the father is saying pero ambigat talaga. I got this from a book of father poem's and this is one of the more indelible ones.

11:27 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

I just found biff russ's book "black method" and am really liking it. Can't find any info on her, though. Where she is now, if she ever published anything else.

10:32 PM  

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